The Threads of Fate
by Screaming Ferret
Summary: Darth Sidious is forced to flee following his confrontation with Mace Windu. Will he be able to reclaim his former, exalted position from afar while evading the Jedi that are hunting him?
1. The Will of the Force

**Author's Note:** I've wanted to write a decent length Sidious fanfic for a while now, and also some theories on his backstory and character in general. This fic has a bit of action, a bit of drama, some intrigue (it is about the consummate schemer, after all) and a fair amount of darkness. Padme fans will not like me very much in later chapters. Neither will those with a fondness for the inestimable Master Windu. Mostly, though, I wanted to put Sid in an uncomfortable situation and under a lot of pressure, and see how he got out of it. This is quite severely AU, and takes place during and after ROTS.

All due thanks and credit to my friends Randal and Tom for putting up with my Palpatine obsession and allowing me to bounce ideas off them. Thanks also to Randal for reading and constructive criticism :)

**Statement of the Obvious:** It all belongs to George. I am merely playing with the toys, and will put them back when I have finished. And now on to the fic, in which Lord Sidious has quite a bad day…

**The Threads of Fate 1: The Will of the Force.**

"It is over, My Lord."

The tip of Mace Windu's lightsaber hovered dangerously close to Darth Sidious's throat, and the Sith Lord scrambled backwards through shards of shattered transparisteel until his back touched the hard, cold surface of the windowsill and he could go no further. Jedi Master and Sith Lord locked eyes. Windu's radiated a hatred that Sidious, under any other circumstance, would have found amusing. The Dark Side ebbed and flowed around them both, and Sidious gathered those tendrils of power and prepared to unleash it upon his opponent. He had not lost yet.

A flurry of movement on the other side of the Chancellor's office distracted both combatants then, and they looked across to see Anakin Skywalker stepping across the corpse of Agen Kolar. Windu's eyebrows shot up at this blatant disregard of his orders, and Sidious could not suppress the tiny bubble of relief that rose in him then. The boy had taken the bait. Anakin halted in the centre of the room, regarding the tense tableau before him with a calm serenity that Sidious had _not_ anticipated. Where was his uncertainty, his doubt?

"Oh good, you've captured him." A far too familiar voice came from the open doorway, and with increasing rage and confusion, the Sith Master beheld the form of Obi-Wan Kenobi standing there amidst the bodies of the fallen, his hands folded in the sleeves of his Jedi robe.

Tricked! In that instant, Darth Sidious felt the threads of fate slip from his grasp. He had severely underestimated the cunning of the Jedi, and the Council's capacity for deceit. With Kenobi present, Skywalker's resolve was bolstered and what discipline he possessed, reinforced. His options now were limited. He could allow them to arrest him, thus preserving his life. That was almost as unthinkable as allowing Windu to destroy him, as the Jedi Master so desperately wanted to do. He could attempt to reach Anakin still, but he knew that Kenobi's influence on the boy was as great as his own. He was not prepared to wager that Anakin felt more loyalty to himself than to his former Master, friend and brother in arms.

The final option was flight. Discretion, so the old saying went, was the better part of valour. Sidious's mind worked fast, considering the possibilities. He could regain what he would lose here tonight with a little planning and subterfuge. His forte was politics, his element the shadows. From behind the scenes, he could work the trick. After all, puppets manipulated from afar still danced to the tune one set, regardless of distance.

As Obi-Wan Kenobi approached the window, Sidious decided. The younger Jedi Master ignored the old man on the floor, concentrating his attention on Mace Windu, whose blade had never wavered from his opponent's throat. Kenobi could sense the anger and uncertainty in Windu, and held out his hand towards his friend.

"Let him get up, and we will have him transported to the Temple," Obi-Wan said quietly.

Mace shot a look at Obi-Wan and his broad brow furrowed slightly as he considered the younger man's words. Then he shook his head. "No."

"Master, he must stand trial." There was the tiniest quaver in Anakin's voice that sent a shiver of exultation racing through Sidious. Perhaps the boy could still be turned…

"No!" Windu bellowed, raising his blade to a high strike position. "It will end, here and now! He's done enough!"

The snap-hiss of a lightsaber igniting alerted Sidious to the fact that Kenobi was very close to stepping in. But the Jedi Master tried once more to reach his old friend through words. "Master Windu!" he roared. "You will stand down! Do not give in to your anger."

For a fraction of a second, Mace hesitated before bringing his lightsaber slashing down. Two azure blades flashed before Sidious's eyes as Anakin and Obi-Wan both blocked the strike and sliced through the hilt of Windu's own weapon. And in that instant, all three Jedi stopped paying attention to the defeated man on the floor. Darth Sidious rolled over with a speed that belied his age, and dropped out of the window and onto the ledge outside.

"Don't let him get away!" Kenobi's voice rang from within, and the dark form of a Jedi appeared silhouetted in the window. Sidious did not stop to see who it was, and leapt from the ledge into the gathering dark. A fierce wind tore at his robes as he plummeted, and he reached out with the Force to slow his fall. If the Jedi pursued him now, then time was of the essence and he could not afford an injury.

High above in the Chancellor's office, Anakin turned from the window. "He jumped," he reported tersely and put his foot on the sill in preparation for his own leap. Obi-Wan reached out and gripped his former Padawan's arm.

"No, Anakin. We will summon a gunship and search for him together."

Anakin frowned. "I can take him, Obi Wan," he growled.

"I don't doubt your abilities, my friend. But together, we are stronger by far than he. And do not forget that animals become much more dangerous when harried too closely, or cornered." Obi-Wan released the younger man's arm and pulled his comlink from his belt. "We will catch him yet."

Darth Sidious's booted feet hit the hard surface of his personal speeder bay, and he dropped instantly into a half crouch. Reaching out gently with the Force, he determined that there were no sentients nearby. He was unobserved. Standing up, he straightened his maroon robes and strode briskly towards his speeder. The dark blue, armoured car was normally chauffeured, but such niceties had no place in his hastily conceived plan. Unlocking the driver's door, the Sith Lord slid into the darkened interior. The engine purred to life as he hit the ignition, and he reached under the dashboard to disconnect the tracer beacon that allowed those who guarded him to track the vehicle's movements. Then he pulled out into the constant river of traffic that flowed endlessly through the skies around the Senate building.

Sidious knew full well that taking his own car was a risk, but in years past he had planned for such unfortunate eventualities as his own premature discovery. In the dark underbelly of this mighty city there was a small and gloomy residence that he maintained. He never intended to live there, it was simply a safe and hidden place where he kept an unmarked and unremarkable speeder, a false identification and credit chips that would give him access to an emergency fund. Although the false ID would never work now as his face was far too well known, the money and the car could still be of use as he would have a long drive ahead to the hidden hangar he maintained in the Industrial District, and he had absolutely no intention of being pursued every step of the way there.

A beeping from the speeder's computer tore him away from his thoughts and back to the present, uncomfortable reality. The complicated array of state of the art screens before him showed that the vehicle had noted pursuit. A Republic gunship displaying the blue and red markings of an elite ARC unit darted in and out of the stream of traffic behind him, weaving around speeders and drone cargo vessels with graceful ease. A gunship. A rare swearword slipped from his lips, and he angled the vehicle steeply downwards, joining another line of cars heading into the heart of the city. The gunship, naturally, followed. Sidious increased his speed and wove between two great buses, filled with workers headed for their nightshift. The buses crossed their paths behind him, and he used that brief moment of cover to bank sharply and turn into a darker, narrower flight path between the monolithic high-rise towers that housed the middle class of Coruscant's teeming population.

The screens showed that he had lost the gunship for the moment, and he felt his jaw relax. This was absolutely ridiculous. That he had underestimated the Jedi Council so badly infuriated him, and for a bleak few seconds he teetered on a knife-edge of control. The seething, boiling rage of the Dark Side beckoned to him, offering solace in its warm and rotten embrace. He was almost tempted. But one did not become the Sith Master, yes, the greatest Sith Master the Galaxy had ever seen without learning to control one's emotions. Berserk, burning rage was all very well and had its place within him, but without control, one was merely a beast, an animal. He was above that, more intelligent than that. Control. Cold, calm control…

A deep breath later, the moment had passed. So had the brief respite his hasty manoeuvre had given him. The insistent beeping from the monitor announced that the gunship was back. And it had a friend. This time, the Sith Master abandoned swearing in favour of an irritated groan and gunned the engines. The speeder shot forwards, upsetting an open air taxi in front, spilling the passengers to their deaths. They raced, the speeder and the gunships, into the dark and decaying depths of the city.

Obi-Wan Kenobi gripped the handhold tightly and leaned out of the gunship's troop compartment. The wind whipped at his hair and robes, and as his eyes began to stream with the fierceness of the ship's slipstream, he spotted the dark blue speeder ahead, darting into yet another, narrower alleyway between crumbling apartment blocks. The gunship swung about with stomach-churning speed, and followed. The familiar whine of a target lock reached his ears and he hauled himself back into the vehicle.

"We have a missile lock, General Kenobi," the white and blue armoured pilot called. "Do I take the shot?"

He was tempted. By the Force, was he tempted. It could all be ended so quickly. But in his heart, he knew that such an act was not justice, it was murder. Obi-Wan sighed, and caught the stricken look on Anakin's face. "No, lieutenant. We need him alive. Increase your speed. If he gets right into the undercity, we will not be able to follow in a ship this big…"

"Yes sir." The gunship leapt forward, its wingmate keeping pace above. Once again, Obi-Wan leant out of the side door and gritted his teeth against the stinging wind.

Crumbling architecture, dark alleyways and hissing neon advertisements flashed past at blinding speed. The beat up speeders and hotrods of those who lived at this level scattered before the armoured speeder and its pursuit. Sidious was forced to concentrate wholly on simply staying alive. Flying was an activity he disdained, preferring to leave it to lesser beings and droids. And down here, it was rather more hazardous an activity than he had imagined. Above, in the heights of the city, the skylanes were straight and clear. Down here where the scum at the bottom of the pond resided, the spaces between buildings were narrow and dark, obstructed by great girders, wires and the occasional floating market or illegal racetrack. The fact that the gunships chasing him were much larger and therefore more at risk did not escape the Sith Lord, and he gritted his teeth and pushed the speeder to its limit, hoping to evade the Jedi amidst this maze of decay. He was close now, though.

There… Ahead and slightly to the left was the dark maw of an old overflow pipe that had once served the now condemned apartment block above it. His bolthole was within that dank and empty complex, and there was no way a gunship was going to be able to follow him down there. He held his breath as the car headed straight for the opening. Having misjudged the angle slightly, his ears were then assailed by the deafening screech of tearing metal. Sparks flew as the right side of the car was scraped across slimy ferrocrete, and the wing buckled under the pressure. Armoured or not, the thing was going to be a wreck by the time it stopped. The juddering and bucking of the vehicle threw him off slightly, and he stamped on the brake and pulled the nose around. It stuck with a metal crunch, jammed across the pipe and thankfully stopped.

It seemed a long moment before he could bring himself to let go of the steering column and actually breathe. It was the search light strobing across the entrance to the pipe that reminded him that time really was of the essence, and Lord Sidious threw the driver's door open and slid out, into ankle-deep fetid ooze.

"Wonderful…" And to add further insult to a variety of injuries, it appeared that his limbs might not want to cooperate after all. He clung to the open door until he felt strength return to his legs, and then strode deeper into the dark and rancid tunnel. Each footstep broke the crust on rotten he dared not guess what, and the smell was truly vile. Scuttlings in the dark distracted him for a moment, and he recalled the urban legends of creatures that dwelled in the forgotten places of the Capitol. Brain-eating spiders indeed… Nevertheless, he quickened his pace.

He sought any kind of maintenance hatch, and eventually located one, crusted with slime and rust. Sidious did not even bother to attempt to open it manually. Instead, he stood back and allowed the anger and frustration at his predicament to rise within him. The Dark Side beckoned once more, and with a satisfying shriek of tortured metal, the door flew out of its housing and crashed against the opposite wall with a hollow clang. The Sith Lord gathered his robes about him and stepped into the dark hole beyond. There was a ladder, gritty with rust and festooned with the webs of whatever crawlers lingered down here. He concentrated, pushing out with the Force at the cramped surroundings of the ladder well. Not using his power seemed rather pointless now. He felt his feet leave the floor, although the ooze clung until the last possible moment, and only released his feet with a sickening squelch. Cobwebs brushed his face and clung to his once immaculate robes as he rose up the shaft as though he was standing in an elevator. The indignity of the situation only fuelled his anger, and he rose faster, until at last he reached the access hatch at the top. This, too, went the way of its mate at the bottom.

Choking on the dust his perhaps injudicious use of the Dark Side had raised, Lord Sidious stepped out into a dim and dusty hallway. The floor was littered with the detritus of years of decay, and signs that the building was not as empty as those in charge of its destruction had thought. Old protein packets and piles of blankets in doorways showed that the destitute of Coruscant viewed this place as home. Mentally promising to have the block demolished once he had regained his former position, Darth Sidious fastidiously picked his way through the rubbish and found the emergency stairs.

Anakin Skywalker followed his former Master into the dark overflow pipe, ignoring the stench and the slime that clung to his boots. Obi-Wan stood beside the Sith Master's speeder, playing his handlight over the crumpled bonnet of the car.

"He must be somewhere in the building," Anakin theorised after inspecting the empty interior.

Obi-Wan nodded in agreement, then froze. They both felt it – a swirl of anger and bitter frustration somewhere in the apartment block above. The Jedi Master vaulted the speeder with ease and began to run, shining his torch ahead into the tunnel. Anakin lit his own small lamp and followed, slithering through the noxious muck.

"Palpatine's not going to be enjoying this," Obi-Wan observed as they slid to a halt at the wrecked maintenance hatch.

"Who is?" Anakin shot back, stepping into the ladder shaft. "But you're right. I imagine he's not very happy."

"And therefore more dangerous," Obi-Wan reminded his former student. "Anakin, when we catch him… be careful."

Anakin stiffened and glared up the cobwebbed shaft. "I am the Chosen One, Obi-Wan," he said softly. "Perhaps it's time you and the Council let me be what I was _designed_ to be."

"I meant no insult. But I do not want to lose you… brother." Obi-Wan shook his head. "Palpatine is fixated on you, and that troubles me."

The younger Jedi smiled reassuringly. "I am resolved on this matter, Master. But we had better get up there before he does something really stupid…" With that, he began to climb the elderly ladder.

Obi-Wan looked after his friend for a long moment. Resolve was all very well, but he had seen the expression on Anakin's face when he had though the former Chancellor's life was threatened. What hold did that old monster have over the Chosen One? Dust and dirt rained down upon him in the wake of Anakin's climb, and he banished that dark line of thought for the moment. They had a job to do. Setting his foot on the bottom rung, he followed the hope of the Jedi up the dark and cramped shaft.

It had taken some effort on his part, but the Sith Master had finally located the tiny apartment he sought. Feeling rather pleased with himself, Darth Sidious stepped into the grey and dusty living area and headed straight for the cramped space that was, supposedly, a bedroom. This apartment was really rather special. He had paid well for it, and it had proven to be invaluable. Apart from the small items he had concealed within a secret panel in the bedroom wall, the apartment also contained a small, hidden garage. This was, in fact, the apartment next door with its walls knocked through and a holographic advertisement playing across the exit. The small stipend he paid out yearly to keep some soft drinks company happy had turned out to be money well spent. He allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction as he collected the credit chips and keycard to the speeder that awaited him next door. He turned then to leave the room, and the smile faded as he beheld himself in the cracked mirror on the wardrobe door. The sight was truly frightful. Normally impeccably dressed and groomed, he was currently covered from head to foot in dust, while cobwebs clung to his robes and silver hair. Slime coated the lower half of his clothing, and some of it appeared to be crusty. Sidious shuddered, and futilely attempted to brush some of the clinging, gossamer strands from his hair and arms. The cloud of dust this activity raised was impressive, and he sneezed. Giving up, the Sith Lord scowled at the reflection in the mirror, about turned and marched, seething, to the tiny living room. A savage kick to the bottom part of the far wall raised another cloud of dust, and the wall slid aside to reveal a small speeder, partly covered in a tarpaulin. Sidious yanked this off, and opened the driver's door.

He had a nasty moment when it seemed that the engine might not start, but fortunately it coughed to life after a long few seconds. Without another thought other than leaving this hellish part of the city behind, the Sith Master guided the small, green vehicle out through the garish soft drinks advertisement that concealed the garage and into the steady stream of equally unremarkable and battered speeders that passed in the narrow street outside.

Obi-Wan entered the small apartment cautiously, wary of booby traps. He could not sense the Sith Lord's presence, but he was aware that this meant little. Sidious had stood in a room full of Jedi Masters more than once, and not been detected. Footprints in the dust showed that the man had visited the bedroom, and the open wall and garage beyond indicated that he had probably left in a speeder. The Jedi Master strode into the space formerly occupied by Sidious's speeder and scowled. He nudged the tarpaulin with his foot, and turned to re-enter the main apartment. He found his way blocked by Anakin, who looked grim.

"Bedroom's empty, so's the kitchen and the fresher," he reported. "But I did find this in a hiding place." He held up what looked like a small, silver cylinder.

Obi-Wan took it and frowned. "It looks like an ident chip," he said, turning it over in his hands. "But an old one. The ones we use now are much smaller."

"Yup." Anakin craned his neck to see past his friend and into the garage. "Looks like he's been keeping this place up for a while."

The Jedi Master sighed and stroked his beard. "Well, he's gone, and in a new vehicle. We won't find him down here."

A flicker of worry crossed Anakin's face, and his frown echoed his former Master's. "Do you think he'll leave the planet?"

"I don't know, Anakin. You are closer to him than I. What do you think he will do?"

Anakin studied the floor thoughtfully for a moment, then looked up and met Obi-Wan's eyes. "Go away, regroup, formulate a new plan and return. Use this opportunity to figure out what went wrong, and deal with it." He smiled tightly. "We'll see him again."

Obi-Wan nodded. "I think you're right. I wish with all my heart that you are not, but wishing will not make it so. However, he'll be hard pressed to out manoeuvre us from his current position."

The younger Jedi shrugged. "Whatever happens, the will of the Force be done, Master."

They both fell silent as they contemplated the vastness and mystery inherent in that statement. The will of the Force was not one easily determined, and even harder to understand.


	2. Significance and Purpose

A/N: Thanks to my reviewers ;) Any constructive criticism is welcomed and appreciated. Enjoy :)

As before, it all belongs to George. Sue me, do not. Also, all credit to Tom for coming up with R2-M4, and for letting me borrow him for a while.

**Chapter 2: Significance and Purpose**

The pre-dawn light lay sullenly across the great, barren waste of Coruscant's Industrial District and illuminated the small speeder racing towards one of the abandoned towers. For a moment, the vehicle appeared to shine in the light of what would soon become day, then was swallowed by the gaping darkness of the old warehouse's loading bay. The dim interior lights of the hangar glowed into being as the green speeder parked carelessly beside a long, lean ship. The driver's door opened and a shadowed figure emerged.

The long drive to his ship had given Darth Sidious much time to think. He feared that his hasty departure had done much to damage his future plans, but there was hope yet. If the Jedi Council did as he suspected they would, and moved to take control of the Senate for the time being, then it would be possible to play on the fears of Coruscant's ordinary populace. The thought of a group of 'mind reading Jedi' running the government, even for a short while, would not sit well with a Senate and a people that were rapidly becoming weary of them. That he encouraged this discontent only helped to speed up the process – the Jedi were doing much of the work themselves. Yes, the Senate and the views of the people could be easily manipulated, and he still had people in place who could see that his will was done. More concerning were the actions and mindset of the one he had long ago selected as the apprentice who would see the Republic become an Empire. Anakin Skywalker had become an enigma, and Lord Sidious did not like that at all.

A mechanical scuffling at the far end of the hangar drew his attention then, and the Sith Lord noted the approach of one of the droids that maintained this complex. The silver protocol droid shuffled towards him. "Master Sidious!" It called, cheerily. "What a pleasant surprise! Did you have a good drive?" If the droid could have beamed, it would have done.

With a snarl, the Sith Master flung out his hand and seized the droid in the powerful grip of the Force. The astonished machine wailed as it flew across the ferrocrete towards its master, and came to a dead halt a foot or two from him. Through tightly clenched teeth, the Dark Lord issued his orders. "Get on board and instruct the astromech unit to get us out of here," he hissed. The droid attempted to stammer a reply, and was abruptly cut off as Sidious reeled off a set of co-ordinates from memory. "And tell him to plot the shortest possible course. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes, Lord Sidious," the droid almost whispered. "May I inquire as..." He got no further.

"Why no, you may not," Sidious snapped. "Do not question me again. In fact, when we reach our destination, remind me to have your memory wiped. Now. I am going for a shower." With that, he turned on his heel and swept up the waiting ship's landing ramp. The silver protocol droid cocked his head after his master in confusion for a moment, and then resignedly followed.

In the white towers of the Jedi Temple, high above the awakening city, the same pre-dawn light that witnessed Darth Sidious's departure also cast its gloomy shadow over another event of significance. The Jedi Council was in session, and Obi-Wan Kenobi held the floor. As he concluded his report, the flickering, insubstantial hologram of Master Yoda leaned forward in his chair and regarded the rest of the Council.

"Evident it is, control of the Senate we must have. Like it, I do not, but no other way can I see."

There was a deafening silence. "I agree," the holographic Ki-Adi Mundi said, eventually. "The Republic needs a leader of good heart, one who can be… _trusted_. The people have suffered much in this senseless war, and there is much to be done to rectify their suffering. If we have control of the Senate, then we can begin the process of rebuilding. It is time we came to the forefront and took our part in the shaping of destiny."

Yoda shot the Cerean Jedi Master a long look. "Propose that we order the affairs of the Republic I do not, Master Mundi," he said quietly. "That we find one who can is my thought on the matter." He folded his wizened hands across his cane and looked around the room again. "But who?"

Anakin and Obi-Wan shared a look, then the Jedi Master spoke. "I can think of three suitable candidates. Senator Amidala of Naboo, Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan and Senator Mon Mothma of Chandrila. All three are wise, kind and capable individuals." He gave the assembled Council a small smile. "You all know my opinions on career politicians, but I think I would trust either of those three with the destiny of the Republic."

Several of the masters nodded in agreement, but Yoda frowned. "Senator Amidala, strong she is, and kind-hearted. But an innocence I have observed in her on occasion. Experienced, yes. But naïve, also."

"She showed strength and presence of mind during the invasion of Naboo," Anakin argued, ignoring the warning look Obi-Wan shot him. "She took back her home planet with virtually no troops. She stood up to the Trade Federation and won."

Plo Koon leaned forward. "Master Yoda is right. Senator Amidala is a good person, but ruling a planet is very different from ruling an entire Republic. I would hate to see her crumble under the pressure, or worse, lose that basic goodness and innocence that is so rare in a politician. We need Amidala to counterbalance the cynicism and greed that runs rampant in the Senate. She will aid the Republic more as a Senator. Now, Bail Organa is a very strong candidate. I feel that he has the… aggression and the ambition necessary to succeed as a Chancellor…"

"How about Garm Bel Iblis of Corellia?" Even Piell proposed.

Anakin leaned back in his chair and let the discussion wash over him. Yoda's flat rejection of Padme as a candidate stung, but in his heart he knew the ancient Jedi Master was right. Padme's delicate light was one of things he treasured most about her, and to see that worn away by years of uphill struggle would devastate him. And she had never expressed interest in the Chancellorship, either. However, as the debate wore on and was narrowed down to Mon Mothma and Bail Organa, he could not escape the feeling that they were evading the subject they all knew they should be discussing. After all, Jedi Masters were as prone to ignoring what they did not want to think about as anyone else. Finally, his patience snapped and he leaned forward in his chair once more.

"This is all very well," Anakin said into the heart of the debate. The assembled masters stopped, and looked at him. The full attention of the Jedi Council was still a little unnerving, even after his knighthood, but he continued. "But we are evading a very important question. _What are we going to do about Palpatine?_"

Obi-Wan leapt into the silence that followed his former student's words. "He needs to be captured and taken to trial. Thanks to the war, we have an excellent intelligence network. We can turn it against Palpatine. He is not the sort of man to enjoy life on the run. I expect that his needs will force him to break the surface, as it were, on the worlds he visits. Also," and he grinned, "it's Palpatine. That face is a little hard to disguise."

"Unless he has it altered," Plo Koon noted.

"Well we can keep a weather eye on facial reconstruction clinics," Ki-Adi Mundi suggested, then raised his hand against the volley of protest that followed. "And yes, I am well aware of the immensity of that task. But Master Kenobi and young Skywalker are right. We do need to catch him."

"Plastic surgery aside," Even Piell growled, "what I want to know is what we are going to do with him if we catch him."

Anakin once again leapt in before a master could answer. "Take him alive, and put him on trial." He said it firmly, as if there was no other option.

Even Piell gave him a flat stare. "Should we?" He voiced the thought quietly, but it was one that they had all considered. "The courts and the Senate are his pets. And thus far, the hard proof of his evil is limited to three dead Jedi Masters and one in voluntary seclusion."

"And when," Ki-Adi Mundi said hotly "has the testimony of a Jedi Master been called into question by the courts?"

"Against the testimony of the Supreme Chancellor? I do not fancy our chances, Ki-Adi." The diminutive Master folded his arms across his chest and glared around the room. "I say, we kill him if we can. He is a Sith Lord. He does not _deserve_ the opportunity for a trial."

The atmosphere in the Jedi Council chamber seemed to grow colder as the Council debated, and a clear division between those few who wanted to end Palpatine quietly and as quickly as possible, and those who wanted to see him on trial soon became clear. Though the former were in the minority, they argued as vehemently as they could for their cause. And throughout the argument, Master Yoda remained silent until Even Piell had the floor for the eighth time.

"Deny this Darth Sidious the basic rights of sentience we cannot, and should not. Justice, we must have. Legally, and publicly, must he be tried. Do the right thing, we must, and be seen to do so. Only then will we be able to overcome this distrust and the inevitable outcry of our actions in the Senate. And," he added, almost as an afterthought, "seek satisfaction from his suffering, we should not. To his level, that brings us."

Chastised, the Council members began to nod in agreement, and Master Yoda's suggestion became the focus of their planning.

Anakin released a breath he had not realised he had been holding, and sank back into the cushions of his chair. Palpatine's life was safe, for the moment. He could still save Padme.

Darth Sidious was woken from a hitherto soundless sleep by a light touch on his upper arm and a tentative "Master Sidious?" In that fogged moment between sleeping and wakening, his instincts took over and V-3PO the protocol droid found himself with a blazing crimson blade held against his mechanical neck, as, without even opening his eyes, the Sith Master rolled from the couch into a combat-ready stance.

"Oh my," the droid burbled, not daring to move. Sidious opened his eyes, blinked and gave what could be taken as a grunt of apology. He deactivated the blade, and the spare lightsaber disappeared into his sleeve. He fastidiously straightened the rumpled, dark wine-red tunic and black Jedi-like tabard he wore, and then glared at the droid.

"Well?"

V-3PO launched into a hurried explanation of the reason he had dared intrude upon his master's rest. "Master, R2-M4 brought us out of hyperspace to make a course correction, and while he was computing the next jump, we received an incoming call on your most private comm. code."

"The origin of the call?" Sidious asked over his shoulder as he strode from the ship's lounge, heading for his private chambers.

"Coruscant," the droid answered.

Sidious sealed the door of his private meditation chamber, and shrugged into the black robe left lying casually across a couch. The heavy, rough fabric napped at his hands, and as always, he ignored it. He fastened the intricate brooch at his throat, and drew the deep black cowl up to hide his features. The one he suspected was contacting him already knew of his identity, but one could never be too careful. Then he stepped into the holoplate on the floor.

Two shimmering, half-sized figures appeared before him. His loyal and reasonably trustworthy aides, Mas Amedda and Sly Moore, cringed before their Master. Moore was even wringing her hands, a rare sign of distress from the normally unflappable woman.

"Lord Sidious," they intoned in unison, bowing. He nodded gravely, and regarded them with a steady gaze until Mas Amedda began to speak.

"My Lord, the Jedi have moved to control the Senate! A delegation arrived this morning, and summoned a special session. They have declared their intention to 'guide the Senate' through the transition of power from yourself to another, whom they did not specify. The Senate is in an uproar!" The Vice-Chancellor took a deep breath, and boldly looked the Sith Lord in the face. "Master, your… _departure_ has shocked us all. Are we to continue with your design?"

Sidious stared the Chagrian down. "Do not presume to question my reasons for leaving the Capitol," he said quietly, dangerously. "For I know that you are, indeed, afire with curiosity and perhaps some small hope that the 'another' you spoke of might be yourself." The Chagrian shivered, but said nothing, and Sidious continued. "I have anticipated the Jedi's move in the Senate, and it pleases me to allow them to play at politics for the time being. Their sudden interest in the affairs of state will be their undoing, I assure you. Now. There is something that you have not told me."

His insight served him well, as the two shifted their feet like errant schoolchildren. It was Sly Moore who braved the threat of her Master's displeasure. "My Master, the Jedi have… announced your identity to the Senate. Admittedly, those loyal to your cause laughed it down, and most of the Senators have been led to believe that is merely a trick by the Jedi, to gain more power for themselves, but… There is a vocal minority, My Lord. Mon Mothma in particular…"

Incredibly, the Sith Master laughed. "Let them believe what they wish. And whose idea was that?"

Sly swallowed. "Mine, Master. I thought to limit the damage such a revelation could cause." She cringed, the hologram flickering.

"You have done well, Sly," Sidious murmured, still chuckling. "And now we must discuss our future plans. Are our agents still in place within the population?"

"Yes, Master," Mas Amedda answered, still stung by the Sith Lord's rebuke.

"Excellent. Sly, I wish you to begin to circulate the rumours that you are so good at nurturing within the population of the city. Have our people let it be known that the Jedi have deposed me and intend to rule in my stead. The rumour mill should do the rest. But do not allow such rumours to run rampant too quickly. Timing is essential."

"Your will be done, Master," she murmured, bowing.

There was a short silence. Darth Sidious studied the pair until Sly Moore once again took the plunge. "Lord, what if the Jedi investigation reveals that Mas and I are your loyal servants? We have kept our positions thus far, but…"

The Sith Master gave a small sigh. Their concerns were only to be expected, but their lack of faith was a little… infuriating. "The Jedi need you to legitimise what they are doing in the Senate. Your persons and positions are safe, I doubt they will dare to make sweeping changes too quickly or they will undermine what support they have. They may investigate and search my private files all they please, but they will find nothing." He smiled grimly in the shadows of his cowl. "You have deniability, my dear. You can deny that you knew what I was until you are as blue in the face as our friend here, and they will have no recourse but to accept your word on the matter. Now. Return to your tasks and report to me tomorrow morning. Coruscant time"

"As you will, Lord Sidious," they replied together, and the holograms flickered out of existence.

Sidious removed the heavy robe and slung it back across the couch. He stretched, catlike, easing the tension in the muscles of his back and shoulders. Perhaps a little exercise in the cargo hold was in order. The thought of a little constructive violence was rather appealing. However, this train of thought was rudely interrupted by the sudden wailing of a distant alarm, and an almost simultaneous tapping on the door of his chamber. "Master! Master Sidious!" The familiar tone of a panicking 3PO unit reached his ears, and, wondering if protocol droids were programmed to be so highly-strung, the Sith Lord answered the door.

"Yes? What is it?" He growled, allowing displeasure to colour his tone.

"Oh, Master Sidious!" The droid wailed. "Come quickly! We appear to be under attack!"

Resisting the impulse to slowly crush the machine's vocabulator, Sidious brushed past V-3PO and marched towards the cockpit. The droid hurried after him. "How can we _appear_ to be under attack?" He demanded of the 3PO unit, over his shoulder.

"Well, the screens have gone all red, and there are ships everywhere, and R2-M4 assures me that this is an attack," V-3PO babbled, gesticulating wildly.

The Sith Master clenched his jaw tightly enough that his teeth began to grind, and hurried to the cockpit. He saw immediately that R2-M4's assessment of the situation was absolutely correct. The astro droid beeped a tense greeting as Sidious slid into the pilot's seat and studied the screens before him. It had been years since he'd had to do any fancy flying in space… Summoning the memories and experiences he had gained during his time as Plagueis's apprentice, the Sith Lord seized the control column and took joint control of the sleek vessel. R2-M4 beeped in encouragement, and Sidious turned his attention to the view outside. It was ugly.

A very battered Munificent-class frigate hung in space ahead of the _Night Hunter_. Although the frigate's speciality was communications jamming and interception, it had enough firepower to cause the small scout ship a lot of problems. Furthermore, it was escorted by a blue-painted vessel that closely resembled a Republic diplomatic cruiser, save that this one bristled with weaponry. And to top it all, a squadron of vulture-droids and at least five captured ARC 170 fighters swept through the intervening space between their parent vessel and the _Night Hunter_.

The comm. unit crackled, and a thick voice emerged from the speaker. "This is the _Hushed Voice_. Power down your engines and weapons, and prepare to be boarded."


	3. Complications

**A/N:** Just a short chapter, in which we catch up with the Skywalkers and a little of the overall plot ;) Many thanks to my reviewers, you guys are much appreciated.

Thanks also to Randal for reading and constructive criticism.

All belongs to George, as I'm sure you're aware ;)

**Chapter 3: Complications.**

"Pirates!" the protocol droid shrieked, falling over backwards with a hollow crash. The Dark Lord of the Sith passed his hand in front of his eyes and sighed in resignation. Despite the droid's pure irritation factor, he had to admit that V-3PO's assessment was probably correct. The battered hull of the _Hushed Voice_ had a distinctly piratical look about it, and as far as Sidious could recall, no Banking Clan frigate worth its salt travelled with a wing of ARC 170's in attendance, let alone a bootlegged Republic corvette.

R2-M4 chose that moment to whistle urgently, his domed head swivelling to regard his master.

"What did he say?" Lord Sidious demanded of V-3PO as the droid clambered to his feet.

"Oh dear… My Lord, it appears that they have cut our communications." V-3PO's immobile face actually appeared to register panic.

"No matter. I have no intention of communicating with them," Sidious said, matter of factly. His voice betrayed not the slightest hint of the agitation he felt. What in the blessed name of the Force was he _doing_ out here in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by opportunistic scavengers and no doubt pursued by Jedi? His place was the Core, was on Coruscant. Darth Sidious knew that he was not suited to life on the fringe. As an apprentice he had travelled the Galaxy on his master's orders, and had long ago come to the conclusion that space was no place for a man with refined tastes and a liking for creature comforts. You have gone soft, his mind informed him, clinically.

Again, the churning emptiness of the Dark Side beckoned to him, whispering promises of mind-shattering power. Rend, crush, and destroy… To tear apart those who stood between him and his desires, to hear their screams echoing from the very stars. He could almost taste the frantic fire of their pain. Regretfully, reluctantly, he turned away. The fury faded and Sidious slumped in his chair, looking very much his age. Not since his apprenticeship had he been so consistently close to the edge of his control. He had almost forgotten the poisonous sweetness of pure, undiluted anger, and it drained him. Then, dimly, the Dark Lord perceived that R2-M4 was trying to tell him something.

"Master Sidious, we are being flanked on the left and the right by Vulture droids, and the ARC ships are coming around for a pass," V-3PO translated. "R2-M4 wishes to know your instructions, Lord."

"My instructions?" Sidious snapped, angry with himself for almost letting go again. "My instructions are that he use the common sense he was programmed with, and get us out of here." He released the control column he had previously held in a death grip, and folded his arms across his chest. He also chose to ignore the faintly derogatory beep the astro droid emitted. Force, but he was looking forward to getting his feet onto solid ground again.

Almost immediately, the _Night Hunter_ performed a quite astonishing variety of evasive manoeuvres, echoed almost exactly by the ARC 17O's. The Vulture droids fell behind, and Sidious smiled grimly. Advanced as they were, they were no match for the superior programming and innate independence of an R2 unit. Central control computers just couldn't react fast enough. It had been commented by others that the Federation and its allies ought to have learnt after the debacle of Naboo, and Sidious smirked. He'd taken steps to ensure that they hadn't.

However, the ARC fighters were proving a problem, as R2-M4 put the scout ship through a series of barrel rolls. Laser fire streaked across the_ Night Hunter's_ prow, and V-3PO wailed in distress as some came close enough to singe the hull. The astro droid beeped almost constantly, and Sidious had the distinct feeling that whatever he was saying really wouldn't translate.

"Oh, shut up," he told the protocol droid as the _Night Hunter_ came around with astonishing speed. "They don't want to kill us, they want to shut us down. Pirates earn their bread preying on the weak, and I… am not weak."

He reached within himself, seeking that darkness that lurked beneath the surface. He closed his eyes, hunting his victims through the Force. A Trandoshan, a Twi-lek, four humans and three species he was less than familiar with. He found the Trandoshan, the gunner in the nearest fighter. With simple, savage precision, he sought the reptilian sentient's mind and _squeezed. _He watched from afar, maintaining the pressure as thick, black blood oozed from the alien's nostrils and ear holes, and pooled in his eyes. The fighter's rear gun spewed bolts of energy in a wild display as the gunner, in his death throes, clamped his clawed hands around the controls of his weapon. The blasts tore through the canopy of his wingmate behind, and the fighter spun instantly out of control.

The Trandoshan's ship veered off, and another came in, raking the _Night Hunter_ with fire. Somewhere in the bridge, an alarm began to wail, but the Dark Lord ignored it. He stopped the heart of the human pilot of that ship, and then, feeling suddenly playful, seized the vessel itself and _threw_ it at its closest companion. The two ARC fighters collided in a blinding explosion, and the remaining three veered off like startled mynocks. The _Night Hunter_ broke free and fled.

Feeling rather smug, Lord Sidious came back to himself. However, his crocodilian smile only lasted as long as it took V-3PO to report that one of the sublight engines had been hit in the battle, and was on the verge of shutting down entirely.

"Is the hyperdrive still working?" he demanded.

R2-M4 replied with an affirmative beep.

"Then find us a safe port where we can get the engine fixed, and quickly. My enemies are relentless, and I cannot afford further complications…" He trailed off, keeping a weather eye on the two capital ships on the scanners. They appeared to be retreating. Perhaps they had concluded that they faced a Jedi. "And make it somewhere _quiet_," he added wearily, pinching the bridge of his nose and wincing. He could feel a headache coming on.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Hours later on the other side of the Core, far from the flight of the _Night Hunter_, Senator Padme Amidala Naberrie-Skywalker drew her rich velvet cloak tighter about her shoulders as she watched the sun rise over the great metropolis of Coruscant. The morning air was chill. The events of the previous day boiled in her mind, and she shuddered. Palpatine, a Sith Lord? _The_ Sith Lord, in fact. The man behind it all, the puppet master, the cause of so much suffering and death. It begged the questions of how, and why. How could one man revel in such destruction, and why? Did he truly only care for power? His grip on the government had given her much cause for concern over the last three years, but she had entertained the hope that he held the interests of the Republic close to his heart. Now, she learned that he _had_ no heart or shred of humanity within him. Chilled to the very bone, she turned to re-enter her apartment and found her husband standing there, his hair still mussed from sleep. Anakin smiled sleepily at her, and folded his arms across his chest.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, softly.

"Everything, Anakin. And I find that it does not bear thinking about." Stifling a small sob, she rushed to the comfort of her husband's arms. "Oh, Anakin…"

He enfolded her in his warm embrace and pressed his cheek into her silky hair. "Don't worry, my love," he murmured soothingly. "We will catch him."

Padme pulled away slightly and tilted her head up to look at him. "Do you really think that they will take him alive?"

Anakin hesitated before answering, recalling Mace Windu's desperate attempt to kill the former Chancellor. "We will," he said, finally, putting all the conviction he could muster into the words.

Padme was silent for a long moment. "Do you think that… we _should_?" She voiced the question softly, ashamed of asking it, but she knew it was one the Jedi must already have considered. The man was dangerous. Who knew what damage he had already done, and who in the Galaxy knew what he was _capable_ of doing?

"Padme!" Anakin's exclamation was shocked. Then he lowered his voice. "I don't care what the Council's plan for him is, or that the courts and the Senate are bound to his will. I _need_ him taken alive."

Padme frowned. "Why, Anakin? I know you were close, but…"

Anakin's arms tightened around his wife. "Because," he said, his voice thick with emotion, "he is the key, Padme. He has knowledge that can save you."

Padme froze there in her husband's arms. It was as though a lump of ice had coalesced in her stomach, and it was a moment before she found her voice. "Anakin!" she whispered, trembling. "His knowledge is of the Dark Side! He's a Sith Lord!"

"So?" Anakin demanded, upset. "If it saves your life, who cares?"

Padme pulled away from him, and drew her cloak about her shoulders again, icy to the core. "I care," she said quietly.

"I will _not_ lose you," he began, heatedly, but she cut him off.

"Anakin, listen to me. If it is my time to die, then so be it. I have lived, and I have loved. But I do not think my death will occur in the manner you describe."

Anakin leapt into the pause that followed her words. "But my vision showed you…"

"Forgive me, my husband, if I do not share your faith in visions sent by the Force." Padme paused, and shook her head in sorrow. "I know your mother died, but I remember something Obi-Wan told me once. He told me that the future was always in motion, that it cannot be set in stone. Our actions determine our futures, Anakin. By settling on one possible future shown to you by the Force, you blind yourself to the possibility of others."

Anakin glared at her. "Do not lecture me on the Force," he growled. "You're beginning to sound like Yoda."

"Then perhaps you should _listen_ to him," Padme shot back, suddenly angry.

"I trust this vision," he argued. "Palpatine can help me prevent it from happening."

"But at what cost?" his wife asked, coolly.

"Whatever it takes," Anakin answered firmly.

Padme closed her eyes and turned away from him. "But your very _soul_, Anakin! He wants you to need him, I'm sure of it! And I would rather die than sacrifice the good man that you are."

Stricken, Anakin went to her and wrapped his arms around her once more. It was a moment before she relaxed into his embrace. "Let's not talk about this now," he suggested quietly. "Let's just be together, you and I. That's what matters."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun arced higher over the silver towers of Coruscant, and rays of morning light fell across the floor of a small office high in the Senate building. Sly Moore ignored the sunlight's warmth on the back of her neck and studied the encrypted communication she had received from certain agents hidden deep within the burgeoning mass of the common folk of Coruscant. The communication acknowledged her instructions, and promised immediate action. The judicious use of rumour was an art that she was intimately familiar with, and her ability to put a twist to any tale was one the Master valued most highly. Her services were surely invaluable. Sly smiled thinly and re-read the communication once again.

Although she was high in Palpatine's confidences, Sly was aware that she in fact knew very little of his overall plans. It stung, but the Sith Master was not one who trusted easily, and he played his cards close to his chest. However, his most recent instructions did, she felt, give some hints to his purpose. He was still incredibly popular with the people, indeed, one of the most popular Chancellors in recent history. If the _people _could be persuaded that he had been deposed by the Jedi, that they had harmed him or kidnapped him, then… Sly smirked. The Jedi were powerful, but even they would not be able to stand firm against a rising tide of carefully directed anger. Their high-handedness in the Senate had already caused outcry. She envisioned riots, mobs run rampant, violence orchestrated and directed by none other than herself. And Lord Sidious would reward her most richly upon his return, place her above all others, including her rival, friend and co-conspirator Mas Amedda.

Lost in an extremely pleasant daydream in which she ruled the Republic beside her Master, Sly did not hear the buzzing of the communicator on her desk, and was only dragged out of her thoughts by the Rodian Senator who had entirely ignored protocol and barged into her sanctum.

The agitated Rodian babbled at her in his native tongue, and then realising that she hadn't understood a word of it, switched to Huttese. Like so many other Senators and senatorial aides, he had come to make urgent enquiries as to the probable whereabouts and health of Chancellor Palpatine. It was interesting, she mused, that the man still referred to him as 'the Chancellor'. Another being who refused to believe the Jedi Council's story, another small victory and another step towards future power and privilege.

"You would do better to direct your questions to the Jedi Council, Senator," she said once he had finished.

The Senator looked at her, startled. "Whatever do you mean?" he enquired.

"I mean," Sly said after a moment's thought, "that the Jedi may not be entirely… honest in the version of events that they have given the Senate. They are more likely to be _aware of his health_ than I," Letting him think on that, she ushered him to the door. There was a disparate crowd of beings outside, who clamoured for information as she appeared at the doorway. Sly hit the 'close' button, and locked the panel. Leaning against it, she sighed in resignation. She was going to be bothered for the rest of the day by persistent politicians and journalists, she just knew it. The state of Palpatine's health indeed… That didn't concern her nearly so much as the probable state of his temper, and she had a report to make. She shuddered, delicious fear coursing through her. He was terrifying, certainly, but somehow his presence made one feel gloriously alive.

A small hologram of Mas Amedda shimmered to life on her desk, and Sly swallowed hard. It was time.


	4. Shadows and Mist

**AN:** Sorry for the slow update. It took me a while to figure this chapter out. Thanks to all those who have reviewed so far, your input is much appreciated. Oh, and **Cale**: Yes. Yes, he would ;)

**Disclaimer:** Star Wars and all the characters you recognise are the property of one George Lucas. I'm not making any money out of this, so please don't sue.

* * *

**Chapter 4: Shadows and Mist.**

Korr Vark negligently picked at his sharp teeth with a claw, and, after inspecting the scrapings, wiped it off on his stained silk robe. "And why, exactly, should I risk my perfectly comfortable position here by helping you, Master Fell?"

Darth Sidious briefly considered telling the obese Shistavenan that if he didn't comply, then he, Lord Sidious, would take great pleasure in strangling the alien with his own greasy intestines. Instead, he said "Count Dooku…"

"Dooku is dead," Vark cut him off. "My loyalty was to him, not his servant. You'll have to come up with something better than empty promises. Something real."

The greedy glint in the wolfman's eyes let Lord Sidious know exactly what Vark had in mind, and he ground his teeth in frustration. The intestines idea was becoming more appealing by the second. He stepped forward and bowed smoothly. "My Lord Vark…" Time to see just how strong willed the former spymaster was… "I'm afraid that you _will_ have my vessel repaired, or you will suffer the consequences." He added the mental push that should sear his command into the other's mind, and waited a beat before continuing. "Which most assuredly will be unpleasant."

The fat alien blinked rapidly, staring past the Sith Master at something only he could see. "I will repair your ship, or suffer the consequences," he said in a dazed growl.

Sidious allowed himself a thin smile, partly obscured by the metal mask he wore to disguise his all too recognisable features. Perhaps this forsaken moon wasn't so bad after all. "Very good, Vark."

The Shistavenan leant forward on his crude throne, barking orders to the motley crowd of hangers-on that infested his audience chamber. Several of them scurried off to locate mechanics, droids and engine parts.

"Can I offer you refreshments and a little entertainment in the meantime, Lord Fell?" Vark waved a clawed hand and a young human woman came timidly to his side, blinking at him in obvious fear. "This is Rella. She will look after you. Take him to the Purple Chamber." This last directed at the girl, who curtsied warily and beckoned to Sidious.

"Would the noble sir like to follow me?" she asked in a low voice.

Not really, he thought, but anything had to be better than further time spent in the company of V-3PO.

The Purple Chamber proved to be exactly as advertised, a musty room draped in elaborate velvet hangings in varying shades of purple. The room's faded decadence left Sidious in no doubt as to what activity was expected of him here, and he wrinkled his nose at the shabby air of it all. Ignoring the young woman, the bed and the old protocol droid laying a meal out on the table, the Sith Lord strode to the window and looked out into the thick yellow fog.

The accursed fog covered the entire moon, and left many of the long-term residents with any number of unpleasant respitory diseases. Small wonder, then, that most of Mist's inhabitants were smugglers and pirates, folk who could easily move on should the moon become tiresome.

The hiss of the door sweeping shut drew him out of his reverie, and he recalled that he was not alone. The girl stood beside the table, her hands clasped demurely before her. "Would my Lord like to eat?" she inquired.

"It's 'my Lord' now, is it?" he said, obscurely amused. She probably said that to all her customers. However, the sound of his voice startled her, and she drew back as he seated himself in the only available chair and inspected the contents of the dishes.

Fastidiously, he selected a slice of the only fruit he recognised, and took a bite. The young woman watched him with wide eyes, and he sensed her mingled fear and curiosity.

Finishing the fruit, he beckoned her over. Hesitantly, she came to him and the Sith Master reflected that shyness was not really a desirable quality in any whore, no matter how young. "Rella, isn't it?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"Yes, my Lord." Emboldened by his attention, she delicately placed her hand on the arm of his chair, fingers brushing against his wrist. He watched her with hooded eyes, but declined to comment. Confident now, she slid onto his lap. "I am quite skilled," she whispered into his ear as her fingers walked up his chest.

"I'm sure you are," he murmured, and she flinched ever so slightly. This close, he could see that she was younger than he had initially thought, beneath that heavy makeup. She couldn't have more than fourteen or fifteen Standard years to her name, and close inspection also revealed the dark circles beneath her eyes and the yellow pallor that marked her as victim of the noxious fog. It was either, he decided, a calculated insult by Korr Vark, or the Shistavenan actually believed that he would enjoy taking his ease with the sickly little creature.

Rella's fingers reached his face then, and fumbled with his mask. Sidious's own hand snapped up with snakelike speed and closed firmly but gently around her wrist. She looked at him with anxious surprise as he put her hand back on the arm of the chair.

"My Lord?"

"I fear that I am not your type, child," he said with a thin smile, pushing her away.

Ashamed and humiliated, Rella scrambled away from him and attempted to gather what little remained of her dignity.

"Eat something," he told her, rising and stalking back to the window.

After a properly decent interval, there was a quiet tap on the door.

"Enter," he said, without turning.

The door cycled open and a muscular Zabrak man entered and bowed. "Master Fell, Lord Vark regrets to inform you that it will take some time to acquire the requisite parts to repair your ship. He offers you the hospitality of the palace in the meantime."

Sidious turned on the spot, and coldly regarded the man. The Zabrak met his eyes squarely. "Very well," he said at last. "Your hospitality is not required, however. I will return to my ship."

The Zabrak major-domo bowed again. "As you wish. Follow me."

Rella watched him warily as he crossed to the door, and as an afterthought he reached into the pocket of his shabby overcoat and flipped a couple of the crude metal bits that served as currency here to her. She caught them easily and flashed him a lightning smile.

"Buy something nice," he said shortly, following the Zabrak out.

* * *

The sun slanted across the vast cityscape, breaking through the clouds in delicate beams of light. Anakin Skywalker stood at an arched window, observing the milling crowd of sentients in the plaza below. On any day, there were crowds moving to and fro outside the Jedi Temple, but today was different. Today, they lingered with purpose. Some sat, some gathered in groups, and some appeared to be engaged in impromptu public speaking. Palpatine. They were all talking about Palpatine. He sighed.

For days there had been no word. Their agents had nothing. Sidious appeared to have vanished as surely as smoke in a breeze. In one respect, it was a relief. If he had vanished, then none of the Jedi that would see him dead could find him, but on the other hand, neither could Anakin. He hated the waiting. The need to find the Sith Lord burned within him, but he could do nothing. Balling his fists in frustration, Anakin forced himself to think, to be rational, to be calm.

It was difficult to maintain a Jedi's calm, however, when so much was at stake. And Padme's intractability on the subject only puzzled and frustrated him further. She did not seem to understand that he was only acting for the best, for her, for their child. There was nothing he would not do to keep her safe.

Footsteps echoing across the polished marble floor and the sense of a familiar presence announced the arrival of Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Anakin turned and smiled tightly at his old friend and mentor.

Obi-Wan's eyes glittered with suppressed excitement, and Anakin sensed…

"News?" he demanded, eagerly.

The Jedi Master grinned a little in triumph. "Master Vos's war network."

"And?" Anakin pressed.

"An agent saw someone – masked – use the Mind Trick on an unsuspecting old pirate with ties to the C.I.S. The agent thinks Jedi, Quinlan thinks otherwise."

Anakin's dark mood fled. "When? Where? When are we going?"

"Yesterday, a forsaken little place called Mist, out on the Perlemian Trade Route, and right now."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Anakin turned and strode away.

"We should be careful," Obi-Wan said, hurrying after him. "The Council didn't want you to go, but after the debacle in the holding office, I think I may need you with me."

Anakin smiled. "Thank you, Obi-Wan."

The Jedi Master merely grinned.

"What?"

"I distinctly remember telling you not to worry, and that we would find him." Obi-Wan said, smugly.

Anakin smirked. "No, you said not to worry, he would turn up eventually."

"It means the same thing."

"It does not. Anyway, Master Vos found him." Anakin shot the older man a challenging smile.

Obi-Wan frowned. "You're right. Ki-Adi owes me lunch."

"You _bet_ on it?" Anakin asked, aghast.

"A small wager placed between friends is nothing to go _shouting_ about," Obi-Wan said, glancing meaningfully at a gaggle of Padawans who watched them pass with hero-worship in their eyes.

"It might all turn out to be a wild bantha chase anyway," Anakin said.

Obi-Wan shot him a look. "Do you really think so?"

Anakin thought about it for a moment. "No."

* * *

The creeping yellow mist curled around the sleek ship in lazy eddies and gusts. Within, in the cargo hold, Darth Sidious held his lightsaber slanted across his chest in a guard position, eyes closed. Eight training droids hovered silently, floating around him in a complicated dance. Bolts of energy sizzled from three, and he spun gracefully, deflecting the fire back at the tiny machines. The three dropped to the floor, their fried insides sparking fitfully. Block, thrust, a strike to the left and then to the right in a sweeping figure of eight that left another four in pieces, and then a final thrust backwards that speared the eighth. Too easy.

"More remotes," he instructed V-3PO.

"But sir! Those were the last of the training remotes!"

Sidious advanced on him, lightsaber casting a sinister red light across his aquiline features. "Then I'll have to make do with what I have," he said with a diabolical grin.

V-3PO's photoreceptors flashed brightly in mechanical terror. "My Lord! Has my service displeased you in some way?"

Chuckling, the Sith Master deactivated his blade and slipped it into his sleeve. Too easy, indeed.

As V-3PO composed himself, his counterpart wheeled in, whistling urgently.

"What is he saying?" Sidious asked, wishing for the nth time that astromech droids could talk.

"Oh my…"

"Well?" the Sith Lord demanded, his hand moving meaningfully towards the opposite sleeve.

"He says there is someone outside." V-3PO watched his master's hand very carefully.

"That is hardly unusual. This is a spaceport."

R2-M4 beeped again.

"He says, and I quote, 'there is an organic life form sneaking around the emergency hatch.' End quote."

Sidious's eyes went flat. "Is there indeed…"

Striding down the passage to the landing ramp, the Sith Lord considered the possibilities. It could be someone employed by Vark or one of his associates come to sabotage the vessel. It could very well be an opportunistic thief, trying to score big. Or some unfortunate, trying to hitch an uninvited ride off this rock. It could be any one of a number of things, none of them particularly innocent, but none of them posing a particular threat, either. However, he had not reached high station in life by letting any possibility go unaccounted for. At least, not until recently… His lips thinned as he considered his recent folly. He would not make that mistake again.

He trod lightly as he exited the ship, for once thankful for the thick fog. He would not see his target until he was practically upon them, but they would not see him, either. And in this matter, he had the advantage. Reaching out with the Force, he located the interloper easily, and he frowned. The presence was somehow… familiar.

The Sith Lord moved quickly, his lightsaber slipping from his forearm into his hand, and he came upon the small figure crouched beside the emergency exit hatch with surprising speed. The sentient certainly didn't see him coming as he stepped up behind and seized the intruder by the scruff of the neck.

There was a feminine gasp of horror, and he casually slammed the woman face-first into the cold metal of the hatch. Drawing her back, he observed that her nose had shattered quite satisfactorily. She stared up at him, fear, pain and surprise rolling off her.

Surprise echoed by his own. "Rella?"

She glared at him. "Let me go," she said, thickly.

"I hardly think so." He shifted his grip from her neck to her wrist, and twisted it up behind her back. She yelped as her shoulder threatened to pop from its socket. Grimly, he marched her back to the landing ramp and shoved her forwards.

She did try to gather herself and dash past him, but got no more than a few feet before she found herself being raised by some unseen force. She hung there for a few moments, spitting invectives and glaring at him, her green eyes flashing.

Sidious flicked his wrist almost negligently, and tossed her into the corridor. She landed in a heap, and watched him through the lank hair that fell across her eyes. He reached the top of the ramp and palmed the inner door closed.

"Chancellor… _Palpatine_?" she asked, incredulously, seeing his face clearly for the first time.

"You obviously haven't heard the news, my girl. You may address me as Darth Sidious."

The colour draining from her face was really quite satisfying.

He stepped over her and headed for his private chambers. Wrapping tendrils of the Force around her wrists and ankles, he pulled her along with him. She struggled, fruitlessly, and swore.

Once inside, he locked the door and allowed her to drop to the floor. She scrambled to her feet and backed up against the far wall.

"If you are armed, now is the time to hand your weapons over. I assure you, you do not want me to search you."

Rella eyed him, judging her chances. Her gaze dropped to the black and silver cylinder in his hand, and she shrugged hopelessly and reached under her thin shirt.

The crude knife dropped to the floor, and he called it to him. Examining the pathetic thing, he raised an eyebrow. "And the rest…"

For a second, she did not move. Then, her hand flashed up with a tiny hold out blaster from her sleeve, and fired.

Sidious stepped to the side, the crimson blade flashing to life. Smoothly, he parried, and the bolt sizzled back into the wall, millimetres from her cheek.

He stalked towards her. "I grow bored."

Rella dropped the tiny pistol, and a stiletto blade followed it to the floor.

Sidious sent them away with a flick of his fingers, and stood before her, lightsaber ignited. "You're good," he said, a faint note of admiration in his tone. "Yes, you're very good. You had me fooled, I admit. So, a whore _and_ a thief…"

She didn't answer.

"Or," he added, almost as an afterthought, "a _spy_…"

The young woman drew herself up. "I admit I didn't expect this," she said. "I thought you were a Jedi, or something."

"Did you now? And why was that? Oh, and incidentally, whom are you working for?

She glared at him. "I'm not telling you anything."

Darth Sidious smiled slowly. "Oh, I doubt that _very_ much."

Rella swallowed hard, but her eyes never left his. "The mind trick thing again?"

"No, no, my dear. I have much more entertaining methods of encouraging your co-operation." His smile was hellish. "I, also, am quite skilled…"

Within a very short space of time, she was screaming. When the noise grew tiresome, and he judged that his point had been made, he allowed her to crawl away into a corner. She huddled there, sobbing, arms wrapped around herself.

He let her be for a moment as he composed himself. Her terror and pain were exquisite, and he savoured it like a fine wine. Then, he approached her once more.

"Now," he said pleasantly, "are you ready to be reasonable?"

Rella nodded fervently, and he smiled.

"Good girl. What were you doing outside?"

"Looking for a way in," she answered dully.

"Why?" He stepped closer to her, and she drew back.

"Because the boss was interested in you. Very interested."

"Was he, now? Vark?"

Rella snorted. "Hardly. That old fleabag wouldn't know a Force-user if one got up and spitted him on a lightsaber."

"Quite," he murmured. "Answer the question, please."

She flinched. "I don't know who he is. I just passed on information to the Republic. Vark ran part of the Seperatist network, and…"

"Yes, yes, I know," he interrupted. "Was he a Jedi?"

She looked up at him. "I don't know. He could have been."

Sidious advanced another step. "Think harder," he suggested.

Rella's eyes widened in horror, and she gasped as the Sith Lord's shadow fell across her. "Yes, he was. A Jedi Master. There, that's all I know!"

Darth Sidious crouched down beside her and she cringed as he reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from her face.

"Please," she whispered, tears springing to her eyes.

"Just one thing," he said. "How old are you really?"

She blinked in confusion. "Nineteen."

"Really?" he said, with some surprise. "Remarkable."

"You're going to kill me." It was not a question.

"Yes," he said. "I am."

The Force was there, as always, and he summoned it to him with barely a thought. She was dead in seconds as he stopped her heart, and he rose stiffly to his feet. And although he felt no guilt in the act, he took no pleasure from it either.

Summoning V-3PO, Sidious ordered him to take the corpse to the portside airlock, and dump it when they reached the edge of the system. If the Shistavenan proved reliable, the Night Hunter's engines ought to be in full working order by tomorrow night.

He watched as the protocol droid attended to his duties without, for once, issuing a running commentary. It really was a shame. Such potential. He allowed himself to feel the tiniest hint of regret as Rella's feet disappeared around the door. However, there were larger worries. The identity of Rella's contact concerned him greatly. If he was indeed a Jedi, then the inestimable Master Vos was probably reporting to the Council right now. Time was, once again, of the essence.

He did so hate to be rushed.


	5. Denied

**A/N:** This will be the last update for a while, as a series of highly unfortunate events have conspired against me, and I will be offline for the foreseeable future. Thanks to all my reviewers so far :)

**Disclaimer:** All herein belongs to Lucas.

**Chapter 5: Denied. **

_Faces, blurring into each other. Faces, vibrant and alive, glowing with inner power. Pregnant Mrs. Skywalker, she does not hide it as well as she thinks, oh no… Maul, long gone, wasteful death, that. Yellow eyes bright with scorn. _

"_It is over, My Lord." A baby crying in distress._

_Windu, then. A snarl above that purple blade. Darkness creeping into the edge of vision. _

"_Oh good, you've captured him." The wind tugs at his robes, the glass crunches underfoot._

"_I love you, father…"_

_Unmasked now, let him believe he is winning. "Reveal ourselves to the Jedi…" Press him but not too hard. An opening – ignore it, although all the instinct in him screams out to strike. Strike now, and… Oh, the boy. So bright, it almost hurts. Raw, electric, so very passionate. _

_Control. There must _always_ be control. Lord Tyranus's eyes accuse him. _

_A young woman, her face oddly familiar, reaches out her hand. Her cheeks are wet with tears._

_Kenobi. How was he here? Strike! _

"_You cannot have him." In an instant, denied. "I stand between you and…" Lightning crawling from his fingertips, sparking across that bearded face to no effect. Impassive, unmoving. He knows it is a tantrum, and he does not care. If only the blasted Jedi would move!_

"_Failure stems from weakness." What weakness? What error? Plagueis taunts him, and he longs to strike out at the…_

…"_master, or the apprentice…" Unmasked, vulnerable, hunted. _

_A blue blade, slanted across the chest. Am I not a master? Blue eyes, serene. "I deny you." _

_Am I not _the_ master? _

_Blue blade slashes forward; it is as if his flesh is insubstantial, as if he is nothing. Burning, blurring, the world slips sideways and Skywalker's eyes trail tears as they fade._

_Nothing is not what I am! Control. Failure. Where is the key?_

Darth Sidious sat bolt upright in his bed, gasping for breath. Reflexively, his hand groped across his chest, checking for wounds, until his brain caught up and informed his body that he had been dreaming.

_Kenobi, Windu, Skywalker_… Calmer now, he pushed the covers aside and padded on bare feet into his tiny sitting room. He poured himself a brandy, and leant against the small sideboard unit, deep in thought.

A chain is only as strong as it's weakest link. Kenobi, the great Jedi Master… Killing him would, eventually, be a pleasure. He regretted very much that he could not do it himself, not just yet. No, it had to have been Windu. The Jedi that Anakin viewed as a threat, the Jedi that most disliked, even distrusted the Chosen One. It _had_ to have been Windu. Anyone else, and it wouldn't have worked. If only Kenobi had been on Utapau, where he was supposed to have been…

He shook his head, and sipped his drink. If only was going to get him nowhere. It was imperative that he split the Kenobi-Skywalker team up. He had always hoped that Padme may be the catalyst for Skywalker's rift with the Jedi, and in a way, she was. They had succeeded in keeping the marriage secret, which was unfortunate on the one hand, but gave him wonderful leverage over the both of them on the other, but… Something needed to _give_, and quickly. Killing Kenobi could very well drive Anakin to the Dark Side, but it could just as easily send him further into the arms of the Jedi. He did not want Anakin to see him as an enemy, as a threat, and killing the boy's former master would not win his confidence back. The third outcome was a Dark Anakin outside of Sidious's control, and that was equally intolerable.

It was regrettable indeed that Kenobi's health must remain excellent for the near future. As must Padme's, as the only leverage he currently had on Skywalker. The Tusken massacre would hardly wash now Skywalker had earned the Council's trust by unmasking the Sith Master.

The Sith Lord swilled his brandy around in the glass, eyes narrowed as he stared blankly at the opposite wall. How had he not anticipated the Council's deceit? They were usually so transparent, so _good_ that it almost defied belief. His relationship with them had become fraught over the last few months, certainly, but…

Failure rankled and twisted within him, souring his stomach. He was the Sith Master, he had played this game too well and for too long to lose now. Failure was not, and never had been, an option. He could almost hear his master's mocking laughter. He remembered the agonising consequences of past mistakes, and winced.

Pain drove home a lesson like nothing else. So. This was a lesson, then. Why had he failed? Had he fixated too much on the best possible outcome of events that he had utterly ignored the Council's fears about his relationship with young Skywalker? It seemed likely. He had become too used to being able to manipulate the esteemed Jedi Masters of that inner circle, too used to getting his own way with them. He had forgotten, he mused, that they had their own minds, their own needs and desires. He had, in short, begun to regard them as little more than inconveniences in his path to power, rather than the Great Enemy they were.

They needed to break his influence, his hold, on their Chosen One. Naturally, then, they would not send Obi-Wan Kenobi to the other side of the Galaxy, despite his careful manipulations. They had sent Mundi instead. He nearly laughed. He had almost outsmarted himself. He had not asked them to send Kenobi, but he had asked them to send Anakin, knowing full well that they wouldn't. With Kenobi the only other Master on the Council who could be spared, he had assumed that they would send him. And they had allowed him to continue in his assumption, choosing not to inform him that Ki-Adi Mundi had left his command and taken over the Third Army. If he had specifically _asked_ them to send Kenobi, then it would have been that much harder for them to wriggle out of it.

Lord Sidious allowed himself a sardonic chuckle, feeling only a little better. He must continue to place his faith in Anakin's concern for his lovely wife and unborn child, and hope that Obi-Wan Kenobi took the official Jedi line about such matters. It would be so much easier if Kenobi alienated Skywalker himself. But was he _that_ foolish?

And in the meantime he must leave this damned moon and begin once again to search the patterns of futures, examining them all, every possible outcome. Never again would he forget that the possibilities were endless, and ever changing.

* * *

Two red and grey _Actis_ Interceptors popped from hyperspace, emerging in the shadow of a tiny, misshapen moon orbiting an unnamed gas giant. Obi-Wan Kenobi disengaged his fighter from its hyperspace ring and arced in towards the airless, rocky satellite. Since they hunted a master of the Force, he felt it best to keep their approach as low-key as possible, thus they used the cover of Mist's brother moons to stalk their prey. 

The pearly white orb of Mist seemed to rise over the rocky landscape the two Jedi starfighters sped across. Obi-Wan spoke into his comm. unit. "Now, remember the plan, Anakin."

"Obi-Wan, I came up with the plan." Anakin Skywalker sounded exasperated. "Don't you trust me?"

Although the words were said lightly, the Jedi Master knew that the question was entirely serious. "Of course I do," he said, injecting a note of reassurance into his voice. He very much wanted to reach out with the Force and let Anakin sense his complete trust, but that was unwise on two counts. He did not want to risk Palpatine sensing their approach, and he suspected that Anakin might instead sense his concern rather than his trust. His former apprentice had been tense and closed during their journey. But now was hardly the time for second thoughts.

Anakin said nothing more, edging his Interceptor closer and taking the lead as they left the barren moon's cover and angled towards Mist's darker side. Within minutes, the thick yellow fog had enveloped their starfighters completely, and visibility was reduced to virtually zero.

Obi-Wan was forced to rely on his astromech unit and the ship's state of the art scanners to guide his hand, and as they chased along a great river, the droid informed him that they were fast approaching the head of the valley that contained Mist's largest settlement.

"There's a flat space at the next loop of the river," Anakin said, and Obi-Wan checked his own scanners.

"I see it," he said, watching the monitor.

Swinging about, the two Interceptors landed in perfect unison in a mossy field between an outcropping of a large fungus and the river. It was a good spot, as the fungus and the mist shielded the ships from the view of Mist's spaceport, and the river itself covered the approach from the valley.

Obi-Wan strapped on a small breath mask and exited his fighter, leaping from the cockpit onto the ground. It squelched. Concerned, he looked over at Anakin, who stamped experimentally.

"I think it'll be alright," he said after a moment, his voice slightly muffled through his own breath mask. "But we had better not be too long."

Obi-Wan nodded, and drew the hood of his robe up. Together, the two Jedi walked in silence, past the fungus copse and onto what appeared to be a rough road.

The outskirts of Mist's main settlement loomed unexpectedly out of the fog fifteen minutes later, and they joined the throng of sentients that hurried though the shrouded, crooked streets. Many of the beings wore breath masks and long cloaks, and the typical Jedi robe did not seem too out of place.

They stopped at a wide crossroads to permit a string of crude carts to pass, and to confer. The fungus farmers and smugglers ignored them entirely.

"The best bet is to check out whatever passes for a spaceport here," Anakin said, warily watching a group of Gammorreans that lingered outside a nearby cantina.

"I agree," Obi-Wan murmured, also keeping a weather eye on the locals. "But Quinlan's agent was in the employ of Korr Vark…"

"We could split up," Anakin suggested.

"I thought we agreed not to separate," Obi-Wan said, a note of severity creeping into his voice. "Darth Sidious is an accomplished warrior, and we will need to work together."

Anakin gave him a long look, then nodded. "Very well. Spaceport, then?"

* * *

Darth Sidious pulled his shabby great coat tighter about him as he hurried down the town's main thoroughfare. His irritation with Korr Vark almost exceeded his impatience to be off, but at least the Shistavenean had eventually proved reliable. The _Night Hunter's_ engines were, at last, in full working order. He stepped around a group of thuggish Gammorreans loitering outside their favourite cantina, and was forced to duck out of the way as a line of heavily laden carts wound their way clumsily down the street. Once the creaking, shuffling line had passed, he picked up his pace once more, weaving around groups of fog-shrouded beings. He was passing one such pair standing on the corner, when a horribly familiar voice whispered out of the fog. 

"Spaceport, then?" Anakin Skywalker's voice said beside him, and Lord Sidious felt as if someone had just poured a bucket of ice down the back of his neck. He forced himself to pass them calmly by, although every instinct told him to run. If he had to fight, then he could not kill either of them, and he suspected that Kenobi, for the other had to be he, felt no such restriction.

Once across the street, he glanced back. Figures loomed out of the yellow fog, and vanished back into it without a trace. He dared not open himself to the Force, the only sure way of knowing exactly where they were. He ducked his head, and strode on towards the landing field that served as the official spaceport.

Every now and again, he looked back but there was nothing behind him but shapes that were obviously not human. The tightness in his throat eased as he approached the spaceport. And then he felt it, a crawling sensation in the Force, as if something alive had just skittered across his mental shields. Instinctively, he glanced behind him. Two robed figures emerged from the swirling mist.

Licking dry lips, the Sith Master evaluated his options. Somehow, he had been recognised. He suddenly cursed the yellow fog that had made it impossible for him to see the Jedi until he had been practically on top of them, and decided that he might as well simply run. Calling upon the Force to augment his speed, he dashed for the gate onto the landing field, knocking a Chadra-Fan and a young Rodian aside as he ran. He felt the Jedi now, and they were running too, urgency swirling about them.

The wall surrounding the spaceport loomed before him, and he turned along it, drawing more power to himself until he felt that his feet might actually leave the ground. One behind him, and one… above?

Automatically looking upwards, he saw nothing, but Anakin must be up there on the wall. There were shouts from surprised beings behind him. The gate now, and he pelted past the astonished Togorian guard into the open ground beyond.

He swerved between two freighters, and the clang of boots on a starship hull announced that the younger Jedi was still keeping pace with him above. Mentally cursing each and every Jedi he could think of, the Sith Lord slipped his lightsaber from his sleeve just as he sensed Skywalker come to the ground directly ahead of him. That could only mean that Kenobi was behind, and sure enough, the Jedi Master strode from the mist into the freighter's floodlights. There was going to be a fight, despite his efforts to the contrary.

Halting, Sidious glanced up at the freighter beside him.

"Don't even think about it, Your Excellency," Obi-Wan Kenobi said from behind him.

Ahead, Anakin Skywalker emerged from the fog, his lightsaber hilt in his hand.

"You are under arrest for crimes against the Republic, and against sentience." The Chosen One made a show of the fact that he had not ignited his blade. "Please, we do not want to hurt you."

I'm sure you don't, Sidious thought, but did not say. Instead, he smiled coldly at the Jedi Knight. "And I thought I was guilty of being a Sith. That is all your Jedi Council is concerned about."

Anakin glanced past Sidious, at his former Master, and the Sith Lord seized the opportunity to barrel past the boy. But Anakin moved too fast, and drove his shoulder into the Sith Lord's chest, throwing him back. Winded, Sidious retreated a few steps.

"We do not want to hurt you," Anakin repeated. He stepped towards the older man, fairly radiating concern and kindness.

"You'll forgive me if I do not believe a word you say, my boy," Sidious growled, hefting his lightsaber. He did not want to escalate the confrontation, but… "If you think that I am going to 'go quietly', then you are very much mistaken." He ignited his blade.

Simultaneously, the two Jedi ignited their own, and the fog about them glowed with eerie colour.

Sidious stood his ground, waiting. All he needed was an opportunity for escape.

There was a tense silence.

Kenobi moved first, a sweeping uppercut from the waist. Sidious batted it aside, and flowed under the Jedi Master's guard, driving him back with an elbow to the throat.

They waited.

The Jedi moved in together, and Sidious ducked under Skywalker's azure blade, turning Kenobi's and dived for the narrow gap between the Chosen One and the freighter.

The Force threw him back. With a snarl, he spun around, weaving his blade before him in a defensive arc.

Skywalker struck now, blinding fast but half-hearted. Avoiding it easily, the Sith Lord snapped up a kick at Kenobi. The Jedi Master grunted as it connected with his chin. Sidious thrust with the Force, shoving Kenobi back and to the ground.

He flowed forwards as the Jedi Master surged upwards with his blade. Sidious hissed as it grazed his forearm, and he spun away from it and drove the hilt of his saber into Kenobi's face. The Jedi went down again, stunned.

Anakin and the Sith Lord faced each other in the freighter's floodlights.

"Anakin, please. This is ridiculous." Sidious tried for a no-nonsense, grandfatherly tone.

The young Jedi met his gaze squarely. "I promise that no harm will come to you," he said. "Tell me how to save Padme."

Their blades sparked and squealed as they clashed together in a stately dance. It was almost pure forms, neither intended to wound or kill.

"I grow weary of this charade, my boy," Sidious said. "We both know that if it comes to it, the Jedi Order will cheerfully see me die. And if that happens…" He smiled coldly.

Anakin pressed the attack a little, forcing the Sith Master to resume a defensive stance.

"You have committed horrendous crimes," Anakin said quietly. "I will do my duty."

"At the expense of your _wife?_" Sidious snapped, blocking another medium strike.

Anakin said nothing, and the Sith Lord smiled.

* * *

Obi-Wan became aware of a throbbing in his left temple, and winced inwardly. The old man didn't look it, but he was strong. 

Voices faded in and out of his hearing for a moment, and he waited for a second or two before venturing to open his eyes. A pair of muddy boots and the ragged hem of an old coat obscured his field of vision, and he realised the Sith Master stood over him, with his back turned. He groped around for his lightsaber, before catching a sentence and his hand stilled in shock.

Wife?

Oh, Anakin, _no_.

"Join me," the Sith Lord whispered. "We will save her together." Their blades locked against each other.

Obi-Wan's heart seemed to stop. Anakin's reply was _so long_ in coming.

"No. Tell me how to save Padme and I promise you…"

"Your promises are worthless!" Sidious's voice became a twisted mockery of Master Yoda's. "Destroy the Sith, we must. Your Order has _never_ suffered mine to live!"

The Jedi Master felt the Dark Side swirl about them, and he resumed the frantic search for his weapon. It lay several feet from him, next to one of the freighter's landing struts. Reaching out his hand, he summoned it to him as the air about the two combatants became alive with coruscating bolts of electricity. Anakin deflected them with his blade.

It was too late. As he shakily climbed to his feet, pushing back a wave of nausea, the power cell of Anakin's lightsaber gave out as it was overloaded, and the younger Jedi was blasted back against a freighter and knocked unconscious.

The Sith Lord fled.

Obi-Wan let him go, turning his attention to Anakin, who lay spread-eagled in the mud.

How had events spiralled so far out of control?

Wearily, he reached for his comlink and called the Republic cruiser _Shield_, waiting in the next system.

"Make the jump to the edge of the system, and intercept any craft leaving," he instructed. The comm. officer acknowledged the order, and Obi-Wan tucked the comlink away and bent over Anakin as he groaned and sat up.

"Did he get away?" Anakin asked, groggily.

Obi-Wan hauled him up. "Not quite. We still have a chance to catch him. Let's get back to the ships."

They both looked up as engines thundered overhead, and a long, lean ship disappeared into the fog.


	6. Deliberations

**A/N:** I've been meaning to update for ages... I'm too fond of Darth Sidious to leave him floating in fanfic limbo, so here we are - if anyone's still interested enough to read this. Concrit is very useful and much appreciated, especially because Sidious is a difficult one to write and I'm still not convinced I'm doing him justice.

**Disclaimer:** The Star Wars universe belongs to Lucas. No copyright infringement intended.

**The Threads of Fate 6: Deliberations**

Love conquers all, one of the poets had said. It was a beautiful sentiment, but she couldn't help the sneaking suspicion that the poet in question hadn't had a clue what he was talking about.

Padme sighed and laid aside her book. The melodic tinkling of the courtyard fountains did nothing to calm her, or diminish the terrible certainty that grew in her mind. She was not a cynic. She saw the good in people – it was one of her talents. She saw the good in Anakin, and there lay the heart of the matter. She saw the good in him, and it was precisely for that reason that she feared they could not continue.

The fanaticism in his eyes as he held her and promised her that he would save her, that he would find Palpatine and somehow extract some esoteric truth from him that would prevent his nightmares from coming true, frightened her. Not because of Anakin, but _for_ him.

An image of Palpatine coalesced in her mind, his gentle, fatherly smile twisting into an unfamiliar sneer. She shuddered, tracing the gold lettering on the book cover with one fingertip as surety against the darkness. _The __Ancient __Customs and Tra__ditions of the Jedi Order_, an ancient text retrieved from some dingy little shop somewhere in the depths of Coruscant. Hard-copy books did not come cheap, and this one was bound in leather and embossed with gold leaf. The price, she had willingly paid. Now, having read it, the price the pages extracted from her seemed almost too high to bear.

She couldn't entirely blame herself. She was not a Jedi, and she was in love. Of course she knew the penalties for marrying a Jedi; she was not one to embark on a plan of action of any kind without at least some idea of the consequences. But those consequences were strictly legal; loss of her position and responsibilities as a Senator, Anakin's expulsion from the Jedi Order. These were material things, and hardly worth worrying about in the face of overwhelming love.

No, what were far more worrying were the consequences she hadn't even thought about. Hadn't been aware of. The Jedi were forbidden to love. She knew that, but, in the storm of his affection, she had not _really_ considered why.

Now it seemed blindingly obvious. Not for some ancient regard for asceticism, or even to purely dedicate themselves to the Force, although those were valid addendums to the main point. A Jedi should not love because, for them, emotional involvement or attachment was a slippery pathway to a darker road, in ways that those who were blind to the Force could not understand. Everybody knew that jealousy and lust, although often considered contemptible, were component parts of love. They could exist without it, but she was certain there was not one loving husband in the whole galaxy that would cheerfully allow another man to flirt and dance with, or even bed his wife without at least a sliver of jealousy in his soul.

But who outside the Jedi Order could know that love and its lesser cousins could be the cracks into which darker feelings could take root? After all, most beings couldn't move things with their minds, or seize control of the will of another. Most beings did not carry upon their shoulders the power of the Force and the training to use it.

The book explained in graphic terms what could happen when that power and that training was subverted into selfishness, for even the most noble of reasons.

Padme closed her eyes, seeking stillness that would not come. She did see the good in him, and now she thought she saw the hooks Palpatine could draw him in by. It was as though she had a glimpse of silver strands tightening around her husband like a noose. It was terrible to think that, perhaps, she had an insight into the monster's plan. Terrible, but she could use it if she had the will and the strength.

It was her responsibility to do so, as she believed that Anakin was too wrapped up in his own fears for her to _see_ the danger he was in.

In one blow she could sever those silver threads and remove the juiciest bait from Palpatine's hook.

Tears dropped gently onto the crushed velvet of her gown. It always seemed to be the case that the best thing to do was always the hardest. She could see why the Dark Side held its appeal, but then she had never believed that life _should_ be easy.

She would call Anakin in the morning.

* * *

He centred himself in the Force, reaching out for the glorious all-encompassing life of it. The dust and grime of Mist had been washed away in the 'fresher, but the memories of their encounter with the renegade Sith Lord would not depart so easily.

Glancing at the chrono, making a couple of quick calculations to allow for time difference, Obi-Wan decided that Yoda would probably be awake. If he wasn't, he soon would be.

It took less than a minute for the diminutive Jedi Master to answer the call, a flickering blue hologram springing into life on the projector plate.

'Master Obi-Wan,' Yoda greeted him. 'News, have you?'

Although Obi-Wan had rehearsed the conversation over and over in his mind, the words did not seem to want to come out as he had planned. 'We, uh, tracked him to a landing field on Mist. Our information was certainly accurate.'

Yoda's ears twitched; and Obi-Wan knew that the ancient Master had picked up on his uncharacteristic hesitation. Still, Yoda waited for him to continue.

'We had him at bay, but I was incapacitated in the fight, and he escaped.' There. The bare bones of the incident, at least.

'Not hurt, were you?' Yoda folded his hands in his lap.

'No, Master.' Obi-Wan fought the urge to rub the back of his neck, or shift his weight in discomfort.

'Something else, I sense.' Yoda, even as a hologram, had a penetrating gaze. 'What troubles you, Obi-Wan?'

'Master Yoda... I fear that Anakin has... done something foolish.' Foolish. He almost laughed at his own phrasing of it. The boy, his friend, was going to be expelled from the Order for this, and he called it _foolish_. What made it worse was the fact that _he_ was the one to bring it to the Council's attention. Overall, he felt that he would rather fall upon his own blade than witness the inevitable look of betrayal in Anakin's eyes. But there was nothing for it now.

'Foolish, you say?' Yoda leaned forward, concerned. 'Tell me you must, my friend.' The Jedi Master's voice was gentle, as if he could feel Obi-Wan's pain across the light-years that separated them.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes for a moment, then forced them open. 'It concerns Senator Amidala.'

'Padme? Fond of her, he is. Noticed this, I have.'

Obi-Wan winced. 'Master, it seems that Anakin has... married her.' He delivered the revelation in a dead voice.

Yoda's eyes widened. It was not often that one managed to surprise the most senior member of the Jedi Council. Under other circumstances, Obi-Wan may even have counted it an achievement.

'Sure of this, are you?' He spoke sharply, studying the younger Jedi closely. 'From where does your information come?'

'From the Sith Lord, Master.' Obi-Wan leaned forward on the projection plate. 'I sensed no lie.'

'Nor would you. A master of deceit, Palpatine is. Sensed his duplicity_ I_ did not.' Yoda frowned at him.

It seemed totally unfair that Obi-Wan would have to argue for his case, that he would have to persuade the Jedi Council of this most painful truth – and destroy the lives of two people he counted dear friends in the process. But then, for a Jedi, fair never came into it. It was a matter of right.

'I know, Master. Believe me, if I could pass this off as one of Palpatine's lies, I would. But Anakin confirmed the truth of it by refusing to deny it.'

Yoda frowned again. 'Spoken to him about this, have you?'

Made to feel even more like a sneak going behind his friend's back, Obi-Wan shook his head. 'No. I sought your counsel first.'

'Wise of you, if true this is. Tell me what Anakin's reaction was.'

'Master, I couldn't see his face. They believed I was unconscious.' Obi-Wan had no trouble recalling the event. 'Sidious wants Anakin as an apprentice. He offered Anakin the opportunity to join him in order to save Padme's life.' Thank the Force, he thought, that Anakin refused.

'Hmm.' Yoda propped his chin in his hands and stared off past the Jedi Knight. 'Aware of no danger to Senator Amidala's life, am I.' A vestige of his usual humour returned. 'At least, not at the moment.'

'Anakin seems to believe that there is such a threat.'

'At least, know of the truth of Palpatine's interest in Anakin, we do,' Yoda mused. 'And the trap he tries to lay, we can now see.' He sighed. 'If true, a delicate matter it is.'

Obi-Wan folded his arms, trying not to let his agitation show. 'Master, Anakin is in grave danger. And possibly the Senator too.'

'Agree, I do.' Yoda nodded sharply. 'And in more danger if cut loose he is.'

'Master?' It was hard to hold on to the sudden sliver of hope.

Yoda gave him a shrewd look. 'Bring this to the Council's attention we must not, for the moment. Expelled he would be. Tradition and Temple law decree it. A Jedi he must remain, and watch him we can.'

'You mean to use him as bait?' Yoda had succeeded in turning the tables and surprising him this time. Still, Obi-Wan found it difficult to decide if becoming bait for a Sith Master was preferable to expulsion.

'Indeed. Wants Anakin, Sidious does. Out of hiding he will come, for the Chosen One. Then his downfall, Anakin will be.' The wizened Jedi Master's smile was predatory.

Obi-Wan met his gaze squarely. 'Master Yoda, I cannot in conscience _use_ Anakin like that. He deserves better.'

'Use him? No.' Yoda returned the gaze. 'Use Sidious's _need_ for him, we shall.'

Of course, he mused. It all comes down to your point of view. Yoda was, in a way, right. Still, it did not sit well with him at all. Perhaps his point of view, being so close to Anakin, was skewed. But then again, perhaps not. Even so, it was futile to argue the point without another plan to put forward. 'And what of the Senator?'

'Watch her also, we must. Her good health monitored, shall be.' Yoda gave him a searching look. 'Clear, your mind must be, Obi-Wan. Free of doubt, free to act. Your help, Anakin needs.' He suddenly seemed weary, saddened. 'You, he trusts.'

Sighing, Obi-Wan bowed his head. 'I shall be guided by you in this matter, Master.'

'May the Force be with you, Master Obi-Wan.' The little Jedi Master raised a clawed hand, and the holo-image winked out of existence.

Obi-Wan stared through the empty space where Yoda had been, his mind whirling. They – he and Anakin both – skirted the edge of an abyss. It seemed only a matter of time before the treacherous footing gave way, and one or both plunged to an unknown doom.

* * *

The holomap of the galaxy swirled in a stately dance around the darkened lounge. Darth Sidious sat back in his seat, allowing his mind to wander amongst the stars. The comfortable recliner and the glass of brandy were well-deserved comforts earned after a most trying day.

It had been close. He had never thought for an instant that the boy would try to hurt him, and it was pleasing to be proven right on that score. The inestimable Master Kenobi, on the other hand, was a different matter entirely. Oh, he was as honourable as they came, and if the Council had decreed that he be taken alive, Sidious had no doubt that Kenobi would do his best to deliver him in one piece, neatly tied up with a bow. The trouble was, he was as implacable as the march of time itself, and he was not without mental resource.

Still, it was to be hoped that he had been able to insert a small spoke into the Jedi wheel. Kenobi's naked shock at the revelation of Anakin's illicit marriage had been most gratifying. He was sure the boy hadn't even noticed his Master had come round, either. Too wrapped up in his own concerns and fears, that one. It was all to the good. The best wedges to drive between people were the ones they didn't see.

He was glad to quit Mist. The mud and the fog, both equally clinging, were best left to the kind of pond-scum one found inhabiting such climes. He had no intention of returning.

The stars wheeled around the room, glowing jewels in the darkness. He never tired of the beauty of space, real or holographic. There was so much mystery, so much promise and power in the stars. Even so, he would have much preferred to have been viewing the spectacle from quarters aboard a ship of the line, or a luxury yacht at the very least. The _Night Hunter_ seemed a poor relation, although she had performed well today.

His gaze sought the Coruscant system, and tracked its primary's path amongst its fellow stars. Sipping his brandy, Darth Sidious offered up a silent toast to the long-dead engineer who had designed the cloaking system he had had the foresight to order and install. Not that he had expected _this_, exactly, but he knew the value of being prepared.

The cruiser, _Shield,_ lurking at the edge of the system, had picked up just about every other type of criminal fleeing before the Republic's assumed invasion. Every criminal except the one they sought. Hopefully they would be tied up with processing the pirates, smugglers and slavers they had succeeded in capturing.

He relaxed, slipping into the easy pattern of breathing and simply _being_. He had taken a risk today, but it was a calculated one. Kenobi's choices were limited, after all. He could ignore what he had heard; pass it off as a lie. He could confront Anakin, or he could go above Anakin, to the Council. Or, more specifically, he could go to Yoda. Really, there wasn't much of a choice at all. Expelling the Chosen One from the Jedi Order would hardly be beneficial to them at this point. Their fear of a loose, uncontrolled Anakin must be very like his own. No, control was preferable. They would want to keep him close.

He could work with that. Anakin would chafe even more than he had already; such was his fear for Amidala. Particularly if they took him off the hunt – which, given the collective wisdom of the Jedi Council, was a possibility. In which case, the boy may continue the hunt alone.

Sidious did not allow himself to dwell on that thought for long. He had already underestimated Kenobi and the Council once. Given that, what was the most likely option? He did not see the stars now, but chains of possibility. They, in their way, were just as beautiful.

A trap, of sorts. The whole Council was most likely not involved – too unwieldy and bound by tradition. He doubted even Yoda could fly in the face of whole ages of custom – unless he acted without their knowledge, or they had plenty of time to discuss the matter. Kenobi certainly was no Qui-Gon, or even Dooku. He would seek advice. So – a quiet little conference – Kenobi and Yoda, maybe another master or two. Time was not on their side, and they knew it. The Senate and the people grew fractious. There was anger there, and so much distrust. It was all part of a larger picture.

Use the boy to lure him out. Set Anakin, all unknowing, as the bait for a trap. End it quickly, cleanly, providing triumphant evidence to the disbelieving masses. Who would then, in all probability, demand his head in exchange for the destruction his little war had wrought.

He smiled. Anakin couldn't allow that, for how would he save his precious wife?

Still, a back-up plan was advisable. If only Kenobi had gone to that damned sinkhole planet after Grievous... He wanted Anakin, if only for the sheer amusement value of having corrupted the vaunted Chosen One. The boy's power might prove problematic later. Having dispatched his own master, Darth Sidious knew full well the folly in trusting one's apprentice too far.

He hadn't really, seriously considered that Anakin wouldn't turn – at least, not until Kenobi had shown up in the holding office and everything had gone drastically wrong. Given the boy's career up to that point, it had seemed inevitable. He had _seen_ it.

He did not like being wrong. However, there was a lesson there. And really, if the Chosen One decided to cling to the Jedi Order, he could not allow that to interfere with the larger picture. Perhaps he had already invested too much in Skywalker as it was.

Sidious held that thought, examining his plans and his feelings on the subject. Had he put too much into turning Anakin, at the possible expense of his overall goals? Could his scheme survive intact if the boy decided not to co-operate? Was it vanity or overconfidence that insisted it be the Chosen One, and not some other?

He half-smiled then. No, not vanity. Rather – a challenge. To steal the hope of the Jedi right out from under their collective noses. He didn't _want_ it to be easy, after all. Where was the fun in that?

And if Anakin refused to take the bait, tempting though it was, then he rather thought he knew of another that might – for a different, if just as tempting bait on a very large hook indeed. It bore further looking into.

Sipping his brandy, Sidious once again observed the movement of the stars. They were predictable, like people, but every now and again, like people, they did something you never expected and threw you a challenge. Things tended to explode or collide, or glance off in unexpected directions. It made life interesting, banished complacency and showed the folly of overconfidence.

Perhaps there was a certain value in being wrong, after all, provided you had the wit to learn from it when life pointed out your mistake.


	7. Embers

**A/N:** I don't suppose people are going to like me after this chapter, but never mind ;-) The architecture and layout of the shadow temple owes a great deal to ancient Egypt, particularly with reference to the decrease in size of sacred space as one progresses through the temple. The layouts of Deir el Bahri and Karnak are good examples. Inspiration also comes from KOTOR I (I love that game...) and some of the fanfics of Redone, particularly **The Halaqua** and **Take Me To Korriban**. Interested parties can find both in my Favourites (**New Moon** is also well worth the read, but has little to do with Sith tradition). I hasten to add that I didn't crib directly, but the atmosphere of both fics really _gets_ the Sith temples. Also, an aside to **Konig15**: Sidious, _too_ Machiavellian? Bite your tongue :-p Thanks for the comments, guys (all four of you). I like it when words like 'brilliant' and 'Machiavellian' get bandied about in my reviews ;-)

**Disclaimer:** The usual applies.

**Threads of Fate 7: Embers**

Jharred Ta'Maal schooled his mind to stillness. He had been in this business a long time, and you didn't survive a galaxy crawling with Jedi without learning a few little tricks.

All around him, the crowd shouted and brandished fists, tentacles, sundry appendages. Some held placards, others just commented by the mere fact of their presences. Before them, the truncated pyramid of the Jedi Temple rose to block out the sky. This close, it was huge.

They virtually had the plaza blocked to a standstill. And still the Jedi refused to emerge and answer to the angry crowd who demanded to know what they had done with their beloved Chancellor. There were very few people who believed the official story. The Sith were extinct, after all. And shouldn't the Jedi have realised and done something about it a lot sooner, if it were true? It was obviously a ploy to keep hold of the power they had gained through military action in the war. A war, some said, they had started in the first place. And now they had taken the Chancellor, who had prosecuted their war to a successful end and brought peace to a troubled Republic. So people said, at any rate.

As a point of fact, Jharred didn't much care if the Jedi had Palpatine or not. He was mildly uneasy about the Jedi running things in the Senate, but only because he suspected that they could make life much more difficult for people like him. Upholding and enforcing Republic law themselves, the Jedi tended to frown upon those who disrupted it, more so than the average, corruptible Senator.

Mostly his concern today was getting paid. And in the interest of earning the substantial payment he had been promised, he eased the small frag grenade out of the hidden pocket in his large sleeve. There were too many hostile people here for a Jedi to be able to pick his intent out of a crowd of thousands, but he intended to try not to draw too much attention to himself. It just wasn't professional. Besides, he liked his limbs and his head exactly where they were.

The crowd sounded ugly now. Peering over the heads of the beings in front of him, Jharred caught a brief glimpse of a robed figure in the great doorway. The figure held out its hands in entreaty.

Jharred flicked the pin-switch and clicked it five times. Then, as protestors waved hand-made signs denouncing the Jedi Order, he snapped his arm up in a practiced arc. The tiny silver disc left his hand and he turned at once, slipping between two Biths and a human and weaving his way towards the edge of the crowd.

Five seconds later there was the _crump_ of a small explosion. He had aimed well; smoke rose from the wide steps that fronted the Temple. Other small explosions followed it. Jharred shrugged; unsurprised to find that he was not the only one who would be getting paid today.

Glancing back, he saw other Jedi come outside, lightsabers in their hands. It was the wrong move. The crowd roared its displeasure, and a few moments later, the Jedi were deflecting stones, bottles, refuse and just about anything the people could get their hands on.

As he made it to a side street, the sound of anger turned into one of destructive violence. The protest had become a riot.

* * *

Anakin answered the call, blearily rubbing sleep from his eyes. He didn't pay any attention to the originator of the communication, so he was surprised and pleased to see Padme. The small holographic image flickered fitfully every now and again._ Shield_ was far from Coruscant, and many of the relays had been damaged or destroyed in the war.

'Morning,' he said, yawning. 'Or is it afternoon there? I forget.'

'No, you were right the first time,' she said. He thought he detected a note of strain in her voice.

'What's wrong?' He combed his fingers through his unruly hair, trying to restore to it some semblance of order.

'I...' she hesitated, then said 'the Council has taken temporary control of the Senate. They've ordered us to vote for new Chancellor. The Senate and the people are in an uproar. It's difficult at the moment...'

Anakin tried to stifle another yawn. 'But Jedi control is a good thing, surely? The Council only wants the best for the Republic. We need to break his hold on the Senate and the courts, you know that.'

'I know that,' she said with a hint of reproof. 'But try explaining it to the several hundred Senators who only see the Jedi interfering in matters of policy... For that matter, I'm not so sure...' she sighed, trailing off again.

'That the Jedi should interfere in matters of policy,' he finished, frowning. 'Padme, in this instance, I think we need to do whatever we must to get the job done. It's not the Council's fault that idiots in the Senate refuse to believe the truth about Palpatine. Anyway, soon we'll have proof.'

She glared at him. The holo flickered again. 'Anakin, I can't support your line of reasoning, and you know it. But – I didn't call you to argue about politics.'

'What did you call me to argue about, then,' he asked, grinning.

She bowed her head. 'Anakin, we need to talk.'

He sat down on the edge of the bunk. 'Well, this can't be good.' He spoke lightly, and saw the brief flash of annoyance on her face. 'I'll be serious,' he promised.

'Anakin... please,' she hesitated again.

It wasn't going to be good. He knew it with an awful certainty. Clenching his fists on the edge of the bed, Anakin leaned forwards. 'What's wrong?'

She bowed her head, staring at something he couldn't see. 'There is no easy way to say this, Anakin,' she said. 'But I must.'

Panic raced through him. 'Is it the baby?' Suddenly scared, he jumped to his feet. 'Is there something wrong with the baby?'

'No, it's not the baby.' She smiled, weakly. 'The baby's fine, I promise.'

Suspicion grew in his mind. 'It's us, isn't it?' He squared his shoulders and folded his arms across his chest. 'That's what you want to talk about.'

Padme bit her lip. 'Anakin, it's pure chaos in the Republic at the moment.'

He glared at her, trying to mask his fear with something, anything, else. 'Don't bring politics into it,' he said. 'If it's about us, it has nothing to do with politics.'

'Just hear me out, Anakin,' she said sharply. He could tell that his words had annoyed her. 'This – us – it isn't working. It's not your fault, or mine, really. Circumstances – '

'Circumstances?' He cut her off abruptly. 'We knew it would be difficult. I'm a Jedi, you're a Senator. But we can make this work, Padme. We have to.' Anakin tried to inject a note of reason into his voice, but he was finding it difficult. It was suddenly hard to breathe; the small cabin had become close and confining.

'No, I can't, and I don't have to.' She said it gently, but the selfishness of it staggered him.

'Why?' he demanded. 'So you can pursue your damn political career? Padme, we're going to have a child. I love you. How can you do this to me, and our baby?'

Padme straightened up, meeting his gaze. 'It's precisely for the baby – and you – that I think we should end it. And for me, too. I can't do it. I can't be a wife, a mother and a Senator all at the same time. I can't keep lying and living in secrecy like this, it's destroying me. And in the end, the baby is important, and the Republic needs me.'

Black spots danced before his eyes. He realised that he had forgotten to breathe, and dragged in a lungful of air. In a void somewhere within him, something stirred. He was angry. 'So I'm not important anymore, is that it?'

'No! That's not it at all. Of course you're important.' She glared back at him, seeming as frustrated as he was. 'The Republic needs you too, but it needs a Jedi Knight. A Jedi Knight who is focused and... well. Not torn between two destinies. You're too important, Anakin. You have a duty to the Republic, and the Republic may stand or fall depending on the outcome.'

He couldn't make sense of what she was saying. Was it because he was supposed to be the Chosen One? What duty – Palpatine? Behind him, a glass of water on the nightstand began to rock backwards and forwards, spilling liquid all over the surface and his pillows.

He clenched his jaw, eyes shining with bright, unshed tears.

Padme reached out an insubstantial hand. 'Anakin, I want you to understand. It's too dangerous for us to be together. It's too dangerous, and we are needed elsewhere.'

'No!' He slammed his mechanical fist down onto the desk beside the holo-projector, causing the silver disk to leap an inch into the air. Padme wobbled, and the signal solidified again. 'No. You are _mine_, Padme. I love you...' He glared at her, all the rage inside him directed at the small holographic image. 'I'm going to save you.' It hurt to breathe, as if something had kicked him in the ribs.

'No, you're not,' she said, only a slight quiver in her otherwise emphatic voice. 'I'm not yours to save, Anakin. It's over. It's for the best...' She trailed off, her voice breaking. 'One day, soon, I hope you'll understand why I had to do this, but Anakin...'

He cut her off, unable to listen to any more, snarling in fury, smashing the holoplate to pieces, repeatedly pounding his fist into it until it was an almost unrecognisable wreck. He wanted to _hurt_ her, to make her see how much she hurt him, and the holo-projector provided a poor outlet for the torrent of anger that poured through him. Had she lost her mind? Was she in love with another? How _dare_ she...? He reeled at the suddenness of it, without even having a chance to defend himself. What had happened just then?

He savagely punched the wall, leaving a fist-sized dent and causing the servos in his hand to whine in protest.In his mind, she cowered from his righteous rage and begged him to take her back...

He wanted to hurt her. He caught the thought, it stared him in the face; and with a howl of anguish, Anakin Skywalker threw himself onto his bunk and curled up, sobbing like a child.

* * *

Palpatine regarded the contents of the small refrigerator unit with some dismay. The coolant system had sprung a leak – he wasn't sure how – and evaporated, leaving the food stored inside in a less than satisfactory condition. The sour smell of curdled ghurra cheese wafted throughout the living quarters of the _Night Hunter_ in a most insidious fashion. He was sure he could smell it from the meditation chamber.

V-3PO seemed close to panic, a familiar state for the silver protocol droid. 'My Lord! I really am most dreadfully sorry. Please don't deactivate me!'

The Sith Lord turned to his droid, one silver eyebrow raised in query. V-3PO was saved, however, from further elaboration by the shrill whistle of the ship's intercom announcing the imminent activation of the sublight engines. Without a word, Sidious turned and swept from the galley, leaving the droid to trail along in his wake.

Sidious arrived in the cockpit just in time to see the blue blur of hyperspace vanish, to be replaced with a swirling cloud of gas and dust. The celestial phenomenon seemed to eddy and flow in a stately dance of white and blue, purple and gold. It was as though some cosmic artist had spilled colour across the black canvas of space and amused himself by swirling them together to create an effortless fantasy landscape that one could easily become lost in. A lesser artist than the cosmos itself could only dream of producing a work worth a fraction of the effect of the whole. He had forgotten how beautiful it was, and took a moment to simply appreciate the sight.

R2-M4 warbled, his dome swivelling to regard his master. Sidious slid into the pilot's chair and regarded the spectacular view. Just noticeable against the backdrop of the gorgeous display was a belt of rock and debris, although it was in fact much closer to the Night Hunter than the gas cloud.

'Oh my...' V-3P0 said, trying to panic quietly.

'What did he say?'

'He says he broadcast the signal as you requested, Master, and the ship is receiving a response.' The silver droid hesitated, and then added, 'from the asteroid field.'

Sidious smiled. 'Excellent.'

R2-M4 added an emphatic whistle.

'You can't say that!' V-3P0's tone was aghast, although he attempted to keep his mechanical voice low.

The astromech droid made the binary equivalent of a rude gesture.

'Well?' Sidious enquired, curious despite himself. He had observed the two distinct personalities of the droids in his flight from Coruscant, and had noted that while V-3P0 seemed to cower in abject fear every time Sidious so much as raised an eyebrow in his direction, R2-M4 was made of much sterner stuff. The Sith Lord had heard that astro droids tended towards stubborn independence, and the little black and silver droid certainly didn't seem to be frightened of speaking his mind. It must be basic differences in the programming, he mused. Protocol droids were programmed to put everything as diplomatically as possible, after all, whereas astromech droids were tougher, designed to act independently to navigate or repair a ship by themselves if necessary. Of course, the fact that most living beings didn't speak binary probably had something to do with their habit of saying what they thought. Generally, he chose to let it slide. The droid was too useful, and he quite often had a valid point to make.

'Master, he says he... doesn't want to fly through _that_.' V-3P0 backed away towards the door.

'That's quite all right.' Sidious said in sudden good humour despite the refrigerator incident, and the droids both looked at him in some surprise. 'I shall take over from here.' So saying, he took the control yoke and looked at R2-M4. 'You can disconnect from the helm.'

The astro droid gave a long, rather dubious whistle and retracted his computer spike.

'What?' The Sith Lord smirked, amused. 'Just because I don't fly, doesn't mean I _can't_.' He could feel the ship responding to the slightest movement of the yoke, feel the soft thrum of the sublight engines through the chair, and if he stretched out with the Force, he could feel... all of it. The ship, the asteroids, even the minute particles of ice and gas that comprised the cloud beyond. It was as though he floated alone in space, free from the fetters of flesh. Free from his body, but still connected to everything that was. He could see the ties that bound it all together, the Force that flowed between the stars, their worlds and the ships that moved between them. It was breathtaking.

Reluctantly he pulled himself back to the vicinity of the ship and the asteroids. They moved in a seemingly random pattern, occasionally several would collide and break apart under the force of impact. The fact that the _Night Hunter's_ signal had received a response boded well for the Temple's survival, but one would need too much luck – or the Force – to make it through unscathed. There were no up-to-date navigation charts for this field; it was too off the beaten path and of little value.

The sleek vessel accelerated towards the mass of rock and ice, and V-3P0's wail of dismay was cut suddenly short as Sidious, without even really thinking about it, flicked with the Force and deactivated him. R2-M4 knew better to disturb the concentration of the pilot at such a time, and kept silent as the asteroids loomed huge in the transparisteel viewports.

Sidious tightened his grip on the control column, and became aware of a tiny trickle of sweat running down the back of his neck. Just because he _could_ fly, didn't mean he had to _like_ it. Annoyed with himself for the tiny show of weakness, even if there was only a droid here to witness it, he began a breathing exercise. The Force was with him, and he had flown this before. Admittedly, he was a much younger man then, afire with all the passion and daring of a young Sith Lord on a great adventure.

Really, he had the advantage now. He was older, wiser and much more skilled. He was the Master, and he had a great destiny before him. He smiled slightly, relaxing his hand on the yoke. No mere asteroid field was going to come between him and the future he had foreseen.

The _Night Hunter_ handled easily, and the Force gave him the prescience to know where he should direct the ship. Weaving between the jagged lumps of rock, he followed one large one as it crashed through a group of smaller asteroids, scattering them lazily in several directions. The proximity alarms wailed, but he was distant and only half-heard them.

He sent the ship skimming across the pock-marked, battered face of the large asteroid, adroitly avoiding a hail of fist-sized pebbles. Sharp spires of rock like the broken teeth of some huge beast reared up ahead, and he pulled back and arrowed up, between two immense almost-globes as they very nearly met in violent collision. In a way, it was almost exhilarating. He had always gained more pleasure from intellectual pursuits, the subtle manipulation of others and far-distant events; and he had forgotten that there was a kind of fun to be had in the sort of seat-of-your-pants adventures beloved of the old holodramas and serials. It was simpler, not nearly as refined, but it had some value. It sharpened the reflexes and gave one a greater appreciation of the fragility of one's own life.

He had grown soft in decades of political manoeuvring.

Pulling back on the yoke again, he fired one set of thrusters, adding a flamboyant spin to a move that sent the ship racing between the jagged spires of yet another mass of rock and ice. The Force forewarned him, and he directed the Night Hunter upwards as a cratered behemoth spun past almost directly overhead. Plunging into the great pit that led through to the heart of the asteroid, he used it as cover. Emerging on the other side amidst a swarm of smaller rocks, Sidious bared his teeth in a fierce grin and fired the thrusters again, corkscrewing between them and narrowly missed scraping the communications array off on a particularly close one.

R2-M4 whistled appreciatively.

Yes. He was _almost_ having fun.

The sound of the beacon grew louder, and the Sith Lord spared a second to glance at the console. The Temple was close, and the _Night Hunter_ had detected its defence mechanisms warming up. Still, they were broadcasting the correct signal and barring actual tampering with the system, they would pass through the gauntlet without any trouble.

An asteroid several times larger than any the _Night Hunter_ had yet encountered loomed ahead, surrounded by a ring of smaller ones. The arrangement looked almost natural, until close observation revealed that the smaller ones moved only slightly, and rarely out of position for very long. It was as if invisible chains held them to the large one, the largest fragment of the world this belt had once been.

Guiding his ship between two of the outer ring of asteroids, Sidious saw an irregular black opening in the side of the huge chunk of rock, a tunnel that led into the asteroid. As the _Night Hunter_ came closer, lights around the entrance lit up. He headed directly for it, and noted the quadlaser emplacements tucked into small craters on either side of the cavern mouth. The batteries tracked the _Night Hunter_, and had they not been broadcasting the security signal, they would have opened fire once the ship was in range.

If they hadn't been broadcasting the signal, though, it was unlikely that they would have made it through the outer ring intact.

More lights illuminated the tunnel that plunged deep into the heart of the asteroid, Here and there along the route, black chasms and holes broke the monotony of the worn and twisted tunnel walls, and the tunnel narrowed until manoeuvring became difficult.

Ahead, the dim guide-lights illuminated an old plasteel blast door slowly opening to admit them. The ship slipped through into the cavern beyond, and Sidious could hear the ancient gears rumbling as the doors closed behind them. Blinking landing-lights indicated a spot on the other side of the hangar where he should land, and he ran through the landing routine quickly, eager to get his feet on solid ground again. Traversing the asteroid field had been entertaining after all, but he much preferred operating from the ground.

Leaving R2-M4 to complete the post-flight checks and shutdown, Sidious reactivated V-3P0 and gestured for the droid to follow him. Bewildered and cowed by his deactivation, the droid silently complied.

Striding down the landing ramp, the Sith Lord saw another droid ahead of him, standing in a pool of light before the great, arched doors that led to the Temple proper. It was another protocol droid, but of an older model than V-3P0, and its black carapace was chased in silver with markings that recorded its function as factor, keeper of the Temple in its Master's absence, and the most senior of the Temple droids.

It bowed deeply. 'My Lord Sidious, the Temple welcomes you. I await your command.' It spoke in carefully modulated Basic, and shot a tiny, curious glance at V-3P0, standing at Sidious's shoulder. 'Your quarters are being prepared as we speak.'

Sidious nodded in satisfaction. 'Excellent. How is the Temple?'

'All systems are operating at full efficiency, my Lord. There have been minor changes to the position of Nakada in relation to the rest of the asteroid field, but nothing to cause concern.'

'You have done well, Factor.' Sidious said. 'How are we for provisions?'

Factor bowed slightly in acknowledgement of his Master's praise. 'There is enough preserved food to last one to five human-sized sentients a year, Master. Alas, we have nothing fresh.'

It was only to be expected; after all they hardly got out much here. Still, he missed having fresh fruit and other dainties. Perhaps hydroponics would be a worthwhile investment against future visits. It bore looking into.

'Will you inspect the Temple, my Lord?' Factor inquired.

'I shall go up to the shrine,' Sidious said. 'Have a bath made ready in my quarters. And rouse the hangar staff, I want the _Night Hunter_ inspected, serviced and... cleaned. The refrigerator unit in the galley requires repair, and the smell dealt with. The astromech droid in the cockpit can give your staff a complete run-down of the tasks that require attention. V-3P0, attend to my belongings on board.'

'It shall be done, my Lord.' Factor bowed again, his joints whirring slightly.

The Sith Lord inclined his head at the droid, and moved past him, heading for the arched double doors that separated the hangar from the Temple. They were huge and ancient, their tops lost in shadow. Yet they were mere copies of the great bas-relief doors that had once graced another, long-destroyed Temple in the days of the Mandalorian Wars. Their reliefs depicted a Sith victory over the Jedi Order, the triumph of the philosophy of Dark over that of the Light. They stood ajar, awaiting his entrance.

He passed between them into the dimly-lit passage beyond, glancing up at the carven image of Darth Revan as he did so. The hooded Sith Lord stood in dramatic pose, her arm flung out towards the sky, her fleets of ships pouring out of an obscuring cloud, obliterating the enemy forces with overwhelming firepower. It was an inspiring, if slightly over-the-top image of power and might.

A sense of security such as he had not felt since that night on Coruscant came over Darth Sidious then. He was, if not home, then at least _at home _here. This was his territory, his domain and he was comfortable here. A tension he had been almost unaware of lifted, he had become so used to its presence that it came as a surprise to realise that it had gone. He slowed his pace to a casual saunter. There was no need to rush everywhere as if the Jedi might pop out of the shadows at any moment. He favoured the shadowed niches between the great stone buttresses that marched down the corridor with a half-smile of sardonic amusement. The Jedi would get short shrift if they did, indeed, turn up here.

The corridor opened up into a great, oval hall, its entrance guarded by two immense statues of hooded figures, their features hidden in darkness. He swept past them, into the centre of the hall. Ahead, huge, arched transparisteel windows looked out across a cratered landscape of jagged, sharp rock and gleaming pillars of ice. Starlight and the colours of the nearby gas cloud spilled across the smooth stone floor in a delicate display of colour, chasing the shadows away to the sides. It was an object lesson, or so he had considered it, in the value of subtlety and patience. While the light was strong, the shadow was a gift, allowing one to marshal one's forces and wait for the appropriate moment. And, of course, the view from here was quite spectacular.

Sidious ascended the stair at the far end of the hall, passing across the face of the great window, and left the Entrance Hall behind. On the level above was the shrine itself, and he was eager to walk its pillared halls once again and bask in the solitude, the history and the grandeur of the place.

The first Hall of the shadow Temple was a mighty affair, hollowed out of the living rock, its every surface hewn with reliefs depicting the philosophy, history, victories and deeds of the last thousand years of the Sith Order. As he walked beneath the vaults and pillars, he felt a surge of pride. He was Sith, the continuation of the ancient lineage whose story was begun on the doors of the hangar, and continued in the halls of the shrine. He was Sith, and it was at moments like this that he felt most keenly the grandeur, the majesty and secret power that was to be a Master of the Order. He was Sith, and though he might be hunted from one side of the Galaxy to the other, the Jedi Order could not take _this_ away.

He passed between the seated statues of Bane and his immediate successors that marked the end of the first Hall and the entrance to the next and smaller chamber. The halls of the shadow Temple decreased in size the closer one came to the heart of the shrine, the most sacred part of the Temple. It was a symbolic feature of the architecture that emphasised the intimate and secret nature of a Sith Lord's relationship with the Force and the Dark Side in particular. This Hall, the throne room, was less than half the size of the one he had just crossed, and just as dimly lit. On a dais in the centre, flanked by two pillars, was a black basalt throne. Sidious skirted around it, knowing from experience that the stone was both cold and unyielding and thus proved an uncomfortable seat. As he passed the dais, though, four small lights began to glow softly, illuminating the room a little more. Darkness was all very well and good in a Sith Temple, but after all, it would not do for a Sith Master to trip and fall on his face.

The chamber beyond the throne room was his destination, and he hurried the last few steps. It was a circular chamber, the centre taken up with a large black pillar, or obelisk that pointed towards the domed ceiling like an accusing finger. Smaller obelisks were spaced evenly around it, each small copy corresponding to the larger one's flat, carven sides. It was called, by some, the Heart of Darkness. Sidious stopped in front of it, and a gentle blue light suffused the room as an ornate galactic map glowed into existence overhead. He had always considered the name as something of a misnomer, as the arrangement of pillars in the centre was intended to represent the Force as a whole, not just the Dark Side. So it was that even the Light Side was honoured here, as an aspect of the greater Mystery.

Often he entertained the almost-heresy that the Force was no more light or dark than life itself. He had never yet encountered an all-knowing awareness behind the great power that pervaded the Universe, and something without awareness could not adhere to a moral code. The Force acknowledged no difference between the Light and the Dark; this he knew but had not taught his apprentices. Tyranus, coming at it from the point of view of the Jedi, had soon figured it out, but Maul had never grasped the unspoken truth. There was _only_ the Force, and those with the skill and wit to use it.

It only made the Jedi greater fools in his eyes, prattling on about the 'will of the Force,' as if they were in touch with some cosmic awareness that told them what to do and think. Nerfs, guided by the hand of a herdsman that did not, could not exist.

Still, there _was_ the Dark Side, and there _was_ the Light. Whether they were artificial creations out of the minds of hide-bound sentients was neither here nor there at the present moment. The Dark Side was strong here, and he opened himself to it. It was warm and deep, deliciously complicated and rich, and it was a raging torrent of fury and hate, an icy shock of want and fear, and almost overwhelming. He stood, entranced, carried away on the tide of power. And far away, beyond the confines of the Temple, he felt the _other_ stir. 

Deep hatred called to furious anger, and they faced each other across the stars in a silent communion and battle of minds.


End file.
